The Zennist

Getting to Buddhism 101

If Buddhist and Zen Buddhist forums serve as any indication of how Buddhism is doing in the West when it comes to having a basic college 101 grasp of what the Buddha taught, we are in deep doo-doo.  Most forums are not places like class rooms.  In fact what you may learn is dead wrong.   

In general, internet forums are not moderated to encourage academic discussions, but to limit wrangling, emotional fire fights, chronic spammers, and other such uncool things.  The worst forums are moderated to keep out certain views such as rebirth or the matter of the âtman in Buddhism or anything too close to the notion of mysticism, all of which represents the minority opinion.

Dharma centers (including Tibetan centers) and Zen centers are worse still.  There is an unspoken, silent dogma—but nevertheless a dogma—subtending the particular center.  Members of the center are expected to conform to the dogma and be obedient.  For example, if the Zen teacher is discussing a koan treating it as some kind of moral lesson, or life lesson, it is not a good idea to change the discussion to reflect on the idea of the hua-t’ou (lit. ante word) or what k’an-hua Ch’an is.  Western Zen centers enjoy their koans mundane even though koans were always intended to be expedients to help us drop the bad habit of trying to conceptualize our way to satori.  In addition, most Zen centers are very strong on zazen, that is sitting meditation.  Such practices are more ritual than substance.  Zazen is rather limited, although in Japanese Soto Zen it appears to be the alpha and omega of Zen.  Still, it is only the 5th paramita the highest paramita or perfection being prajñâ by which we can tell the wheat from the chaff—the gold flakes from the brass flakes.

To get up to running speed (i.e., Buddhism 101) chat forums and Dharma centers are not the best means.  The only thing we end up doing is reinforcing our wrong views of Zen Buddhism and Buddhism in general.  At some point it becomes difficult to let go of our wrong views.  This is not good.  It is okay to go to Dharma centers if you wish to learn rituals (Tibetan centers are the best), how to make robes, and learning how to sit for at least 40 minutes without a sore back or legs.  Outside of that, home study is recommended studying more of the Buddha’s discourses, including history.  If you are lucky like I was it will dawn on you one day that you have to have a direct experience of the One Mind or the same, pure Mind (Bankei’s Unborn Mind is included).  This is the mystic’s path.  It is the most authentic form of Zen Buddhism. 

Nobody cares about liberation it seems

Yesterday I received a Shambhala Publications catalogue of Buddhists books and audio in the mail.  It’s an interesting collection of books.  However, I didn’t find anything in it I would call ‘transcendental’ where the adept goes beyond the psychophysical body of the Five Aggregates becoming awakened to their true unborn nature.  There are books on mindfulness, conflict resolution, Dakini power, awareness (I don’t quite know what the difference is between mindfulness and awareness).  There is one book on Buddhist yogi exercise.  

There are not a few books by Pema Chordron helping people to deal with fear, uncertainty and change, including her classic book, When Things Fall Apart.  One book that was next to her books, caught my attention, Three Steps to Awakening (I guess a person could become a Buddha without too much difficulty—certainly no need to find a Bodhi-tree).  There were lots of books on meditation strategies.  The books on Zen include Suzuki’s Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind.  There are not a few books by Thich Nhat Hanh such as You Are Here (glad to know that), and True Love.  There are lots of Tibetan books and a beginner’s favorite section.  The catalogue sort of ends with some books on dying which are always interesting if you are my age.

What most all such books don’t mention is what the heck is Buddhism really about?  It would sure help to know, that way a person could decide, that is, decide whether or not to take up a serious practice of Buddhism—that includes Zen Buddhism, by the way.  I am still looking at the catalogue for something on nirvana or liberation.  I haven’t found anything yet but I will keep looking.  I am beginning to think that what modern Buddhism is all about boils down to learning various ways of coping with life’s ups and downs.  Nobody cares about liberation from samsara it seems.  Temporal life is still fun.  

So what is Buddhism really about?  It is about clearly distinguishing between what is absolute and undying in you and what is dying, ever-changing, and suffering in you, so you won’t keep attaching to the latter in the crazy belief it’s the former.  This way you avoid rebirth.  Now if you ask, “Hey Zennist, I thought the Buddha denied the self—you seem to be implying there is a self?”  Bingo—I am.  We are most, primordially, the âtman which is absolute and undying, but we are fast asleep as to what it is.  Hence, we are unawakened suffering from a bad case of avidya (nescience) attaching ourselves to the wrong things.  The Buddha only taught us how to avoid attaching or clinging to what is not our âtman.  From the beginning, the problem was never the âtman but, instead, false âtmans .  My body is a false âtman including the senses and their objects.  Each day we look in the mirror believing we are real, real like the âtman.  Surprise!  We are not the face in the mirror.  Don’t glom onto it.

Nirvana or liberation only comes when we behold, directly, our âtman.  One could even say that nirvana and the âtman are synonymous. 

Going beyond modifications

If we look at Buddhism through the framework of modification and âtman, in which modification is more familiarly the five skandhas of material shape, feeling, perception, volitions, and consciousness, it is easier to understand where âtman fits into the overall picture of Buddhism.   It also explains how mistakes of interpretation are possible in Buddhism in which modification and âtman are confused; there being no clear discernment (prajñâ) of one  from the other.  It also becomes easier to understand why the Buddha did not, categorically, deny the âtman.  But also of great importance, we also see modifications have no actual independent existence; they depend on the âtman.  Fundamentally, all dependent originations arise from Mind which is what the Avatamsuka Sutra tells us (in Pali commentarial literature attâ’ti cittam, that is, âtman is essence mind).

We also see in this framework that substance or essence Mind is, itself, luminous and perfectly complete except for the illusion of modifications which, in our ignorance, we tenaciously cling to believing that this is true reality; refusing to look beyond it to what is most primordial which is Mind.

"This mind (citta) is by nature shining, it is defiled-afflicted by adventitious defilements-afflictions; this mind is by nature shining, it is liberated from adventitious defilements-afflictions" (A. i. 10). 

As long as most Buddhists refuse to consider the five skandhas as modifications of âtman which, incidentally explains why the Buddha in many of his discourses rejected skandhas as not being his âtman, Buddhism will continue to go no further than in a circle of confusion.  However, if Buddhists took the time to realize the âtman or Mind, they would be, first of all, liberated (nirvana) from the confusion of modification and âtman.  They would, as a result, possess wisdom or prajñâ which can see the transformation of the skandhas/modifications and still see that the âtman is not destroyed or altered in anyway by this continual transformation.

 

Spiritual sexuality

Prajñâ is sometimes understood to be the female counterpart of Buddha or awakening. In this respect, prajñâ would be Bhagavatî while the Buddha would be called Bhagavân.  While Buddha refers to being awakened whereas before one was spiritually asleep, prajñâ is the ability to discern or distinguish clearly the absolute essence from its phenomenalizations as in the example of gold from a gold ring.

Looking now at the three last paramitas (spiritual perfections) those being vîrya (zeal, vitality, virility, energy), dhyâna (musing, contemplation, intuition leading to samâdhi, meditation), and prajñâ, which I just explained, one gets the sense of sexuality, in a spiritual sense.

Vîrya, we could think of as spiritual desire but also a profound drive to seek direct intercourse with the feminine prajñâ.  The means to this is through dhyâna.  Dhyâna is a continual musing on the beloved, so to speak, prajñâ’s pure, immaculate body.  But the dhyânist has not yet seen the immaculate prajñâ, let alone embraced her, directly.  Dhyâna has to be refined becoming always more pure and less coarse so as to penetrate through the veil of illusion, both external and internal.  Only this way can he see her.  

We can visualize all three working together. Vîrya exerts itself perfecting its power and vitality along with dhyâna which is trying to approximate the purity of prajñâ, pushing aside the forces which make the vision of her impossible to realize.  On the other hand, if there were a lack of vîrya for the beloved prajñâ, certainly no dhyâna would arise or be necessary by which to seek her. 

Although it is true that in later schools of Buddhism such as Vajrayana, upâya (masculine) is the consort of prajñâ (feminine), it is also true that upâya and dhyâna are both a means.  And while it is true that dhyâna is neuter, vîrya, the masculine uses dhyâna.  In other words, vîrya, which can mean heroic, like the heroic Bodhisattva, is using dhyâna to win the beloved, immaculate prajñâ.  

Dhyâna, in the Lalitavistara Sutra, is more of a device or means by which the Bodhisattva is able to become awakened.  In Pali, upâya is a means of success against an enemy which seems hardly fitting.  It is a more fitting term for a teacher who has to instruct people who are hostile towards the teaching.

The ambiguous denial

With such a denial, that there is no âtman, it cannot be ambiguous.  To aver, emphatically, that the Buddha denied the âtman there must be clear statements by him in the Nikayas.  If there are no such clear statements of denial then the claim has no merit.  As a matter of fact, the Buddha might well be denying something else which, instead of being the âtman, is not the âtman. 

Considered by many to be proof that the Buddha did, in fact deny the âtman, is Walpola Rahula’s book, What the Buddha Taught.  But overall, nowhere in this book does Rahula produce an unambiguous statement that the Buddha categorically denied the âtman.  Even here on page 62 there is ambiguity when the Buddha explains his reasons to Ananda.

'Ananda, when asked by Vacchagotta the Wanderer: "Is there a self?", if I had answered: "There is a self", then, Ananda, that would be siding with those recluses and brahmanas who hold the eternalist theory (sassata-vada).

Here, the Buddha is not denying or dodging the âtman. Instead,  he is denying a special doctrine of certain recluses and brahmins.  According to the commentarial literature,

“They 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” (trans. Masefiled, The Udana Commentary, p. 882).

Such a doctrine or view does not comport with what the Buddha taught about the Five Aggregates.  This is why he cannot agree with Vacchagota.  He rejects the aggregates as being the âtman. Above all, the Buddha doesn’t want us to believe that our self is an aggregate.  As he teaches, all the Five Aggregates are, in fact, not the self or anâtman (P., anattâ).

'Monks, form is not the self (anattâ).  What is not the self should be see as it really is with correct wisdom thus:  ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self (attâ).’

Feeling is not the self... Perception is not the self...Habitual tendencies are not the self...Consciousness is not the self.  What is not the self should be seen as it really is with correct wisdom:  ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my  self’” (S. iii. 22-23).

When I said earlier that the Buddha might well be denying something else which, instead of being taken to be the âtman, is not the âtman such as the Five Aggregates, it may well be what is going on in the above passage.  In this next passage the Buddha explains to Ananda why he rejects the doctrine of there being no âtman.

'And, Ananda, when asked by the Wanderer: "Is there no self?" if I had answered: "There is no self", then that would be siding with those recluses and brahmanas who hold the annihilationist theory (uccheda-vada).

Here, the term “no self” in Pali is not the familiar anattâ which in English would be, not the self but rather nattha attâ which in English is, there is not a self.  We might conclude from this the Buddha rejected annihilationism, that is, the denial of âtman.  For the Buddha the âtman was not to be identified with the Five Aggregates, nor was it to be denied.  The âtman is transcendent like nirvana.  As a matter of fact,

“The self [âtman] (in thee), man, knows what is true or false.  Surely the noble Witness, sir, the Self [âtman], you do misjudge, in that when sin is there you do conceal the Self [âtman] within the self [âtman]”  (A. i. 149, trans. I.B. Horner). (Brackets are mine.) 

The laughing Buddha

Yes, I bet you’ve seen this Zen Buddhist monk in a lot of Asian restaurants.  Some call him the “laughing Buddha.”  His Buddhist name is Pu-tai or in pinyin Chinese, “Budai.”  His name means “cloth sack”.  He is said to have lived in the 10th century.  Very much of an eccentric Zennist, he wandered from town to town with his sack carried on a stick slung over his back, being almost like a Chinese Santa Claus.  He was always giving sweets to children.  Supposedly, his real identity was Maitreya, the future Buddha.  He is depicted in the last of the Ten Oxherding Pictures.  

Once Pu-tai walked up to an Buddhist priest and said "Give me some money.” The Buddhist priest said, "I will but first tell me a word of Truth, then I will give you money." Promptly, Pu-tai put his bag on the ground and folded his hands.  Another time, Pu-tai was standing in the street, when a Buddhist priest asked him, "What are you doing here?"  Pu-tai responded, "I am waiting for him."  The Buddhist priest then said,"He has arrived."  Then Pu-tai said, "You are not him." The Buddhist priest then asked, "What distinguishes this person?"  Pu-tai said,  "He will give me money."

Quite profound, Pu-tai also wrote this song.

Only the three minds (past, present and future) are the Buddha. In the ten directions (N., S., E., W., N. E., S. E., N. W., S. W., and zenith and nadir) of the world, (the mind) is the most intelligent, the most spiritual thing.

In all things, it has a wonderful use. It is a pity that beings (do not understand).  There is nothing so real as the mind.  

In continual movement, it is self-existent, and there is nothing which it is not. To those who have left their homes, with no business to pursue, it is an endless source of study.

If one has before one's eyes, the True Great Way, one sees not even a hair (because !all is empty)-strange!

The manifold methods of the Law, how do they differ? Mind is every-where the same. (When one understands this) what necessity is there to exert one's self to search the sutras's meaning?

When the king of the mind (i.e., the Self) naturally cuts off (attachment), then all is harmony. The wise who understand this, need not to study.

There are in reality no common herd and no sages; what then is there? It is not necessary to distinguish from others the sage who has no need outside himself.

Without price is the pearl of the mind; by its own nature, round and pure. Ordinary people are different; have they not misunderstood the emptiness of things?

Men can indefinitely enlarge the principles they follow, and thus comprehend the ever-extending nature of the Way. To become ever more pure and noble, this is to be in harmony with the nature of the Way.

One takes one's staff and climbs the old road to the place of one's origin, without the slightest rancor against those who do not listen to the Sound” (Helen B. Chapin, “The Ch'an Master Pu-tai”,  Journal of the American Oriental Society, Vol. 53, No. 1 (Mar., 1933), pp. 47-52).

Koans: antidotes to conceptualizing our true nature

Koans possess a narrative structure insofar as they consist of a brief story, in the form of an dialogue, that is, a conversational exchange of some sort, and the content of the dialogue.  Beyond this, the characters in the koan are important.  One character we can say is the Buddha, or someone who is assumed to possess Buddha wisdom and another person or persons, who are seeking to realize their Buddha-nature which they've been unable to realize.

The dialogue consists of various allusions which the reader of the koan is trying to pick up since the allusion is a decisive clue to his own true nature.  This allusion or implicit reference to his nature might be holding up one finger or the Zen master making a circle with his staff, voicing a phrase or a single word. There are other references, too, which always seem to dumbfound  the reader; which appear to go against conventional Buddhist and commonsense understanding.  

While the Zen master may seem to be unpredictable, in truth, he is always pointing to the Buddha-nature; but he does this in the conversation by denying our concepts of Buddha-nature, as if forcing us to leap beyond our concepts to where the actual mysterious nature abides.  In this respect the koan operates as an antidote to the toxicity of always trying, by way of our intellect, to conceptualize our true nature.  Steven Heine sums up the use of the koan nicely.

"According to this standpoint, the words and phrases used in koans are devoid of significance and meaning. They function not as names for ideas, people, or things, but as “no-names” in a sense recalling Lao Tzu's famous saying, “The Tao that is spoken is not the true Tao.” Words are a kind of “poison to counteract poison, ” or a way to fight the fire of inherently misleading discourse through the mechanism of discourse itself. This is a paradoxical, self-deconstructing approach to discourse. Words are used in a penetrating and often devastating fashion as a means to overcome any trace of reliance on language” (Steven Heine, Opening a Mountain: Koans of the Zen Masters, p. 5). 

The word in language is always rich with concepts which lead to still more.  But it is not the route we must take to behold our true nature.  We simply cannot conceptualize our way to the non-conceptual Buddha-nature.  We may read about how to swim but entering the water is quite a different matter.  Beholding our true nature first requires of us that we accept the fact that our present state of mind, which is like a radio that has never been turned off, is going to be turned off while our eyes are wide open.  It is an extraordinary event like no other.  We will directly experience pure Mind, which is our Buddha-nature, and really get the meaning of what 'pure' means.  It won't be conceptual—it will be all together inexpressible, conceptually.

In a real exchange between a Zen master who has realized his Buddha-nature and a student who has not, the Zen master is always in the antidote mode. He senses the student conceptualizing, out of habit, trying to conceive their true nature, hence, never entering the gateless gate which is an allusion to the One Mind. 

Perfection of wisdom

 Prajñâ-paramita or the perfection of wisdom (prajñâ) means the accomplishment of the six paramitas or perfections.  Our Bodhisattva has taken hold, in other words, of all six perfections which are: 1) generosity (dâna); 2) virtue (sîla); 3) tolerance (ksânti); 4) energy/resolve (vîrya); 5) meditation (dhyâna); 6) wisdom (prajñâ).

As surprising as it might seem to the beginner or the struggling veteran of several years, wisdom or prajñâ is the ability to distinguish between our true nature (also, Buddha-nature, pure Mind, etc.), and its phenomenalizations which are empty and illusory; which have no eternal nature.  

Wisdom, in general, is one’s ability, for example, to distinguish the straight from the crooked, right from wrong, something well made from an inferior product, a healthy lifestyle from a degenerate one. It is also like being able to distinguish the raw element of gold from the shape of gold, in the example of a gold lion.  The highest wisdom can be expressed this way.  If you happen to go outside (as I am about to do for my walk) look at all the trees, the stream and the clouds above (I live in a very woody neighborhood).  All that you see is the phenomenalization of your true nature or pure Mind.  Not any of it is real, that is, not as real as your true nature which, unfortunately, you have yet to realize.  But when you do finally realize it, you will be utterly amazed.  There is no way to describe it.

To get to wisdom, one has to work on the first five paramitas.  Keep in mind that paramitas four, five and six are extremely subtle and difficult (that is an understatement!).  We might say that the first three paramitas, generosity, virtue, and tolerance help us to accomplish the last three.

If we don’t have the resolve or energy (vîrya) to penetrate through our thoughts (dhyâna) so that we might uncover their true essence or substance from which they are composed, how will we have wisdom/prajñâ which can discern the One Mind from its phenomenalizations (our cosmos)?

Study sermons not koans

So much of the Zen that people enjoy today, such as koan collections or the records of Zen masters like Yun-men and Chao-chou (J., Joshu), were of especial interest to literati Zennists in T’ang and subsequent dynasties.  

Chinese literati, many of whom were government officials, were of an intellectual and literary (poetic) disposition.  They had enormous power and, very much, helped to spread Zen Buddhism in China during the T'ang and subsequent dynasties.  They were also the recipients of the teachings of Zen masters and recorded much of the history of Zen.  These same literati were also steeped in Confucianism and Taoism.  They saw Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism as being harmonious.

It almost goes without saying, but Zen literature, especially koans, is highly complex, filled with a great deal of imagery and allusion.  Literati were very much gifted in, not only the art of writing poetry, but also appreciating its subtleties.  The average Westerner who takes up Zen has to be prepared to become a literatus to some degree which will be difficult and take time.  As Nietzsche said once, one cannot fly into flying.  Before one would learn to fly they must first learn to stand and walk, etc., according to Nietzsche.

Rather than going through koan collection such as the Blue Cliff Records or the Book of Serenity, which were better suited for skilled Chinese literati, I much prefer the Zen sermons or yulu.  These sermons include, Red Pine’s, The Teaching of Bodhidharma, Blofeld’s, The Zen Teaching of Huang Po and The Zen Teaching of Hui Hai, and a real gem, Arthur Braverman’s, Mud & Water: The Collected Teachings of Zen Mater Bassui and many others.  They are all, more or less, a reflection of the Lankavatara Sutra and The Awakening of Faith treatise, attributed to Asvaghosha.  

As far as the discourses of the Buddha are concerned as found in the Pali Nikayas and the Mahayana Sutras they have to be studied.  There is no getting around it.  This is part of the standing and walking, mentioned earlier, followed by running, climbing and dancing that have to be achieved before we can fly according to Nietzsche.

Beginners are at a terrible disadvantage when they get involved with koan collections like the Mumonkan.  The danger here, is that the beginner will take koans in a literal sense, not as allusions to one’s true nature, but rather as ways of behaving.  For example, if somebody asks you what is the essence of Zen just say, “Mu.” Koans are really antidotes to the unbridled habit of trying to conceive our true nature which was what the Chinese literati were guilty of and explains why koans were developed.  The koan is more like using fire to extinguish fire.  In this regard, koans work best when one person is awakened to pure Mind who helps another to awaken.  In truth, koans are not necessary.  But the study of sermons are of a big help.  

This organic unity

Our world is an organic unity.  Such a unity is not a unity of interdependent differences but is, instead, the many (a world of seeming differences) unified by and through one essence or substance.  If we are, intrinsically, this essence, which is absolute and primordial, then the many or the world of differences is really an illusion, including even our most intimate thoughts.  Submerged in this illusion, we have to reclaim (smriti) our essence in order to participate in this unity.  There is no other way.  

To do this, we have to meditate in a truly profound way after we have, so to speak, gone to the forest, or to an empty place, according to the Buddha.  This is for the purpose of remembering this essence, which we truly are.  In order to remember it, we have to pass through all states of mind.  All these countless, different states of mind are the great illusion which has no true, abiding nature, although we might believe otherwise.  We have to pass through them all.  We can imagine that it is like being in a diving bell in which we have to go deeper and deeper from coarse illusions to very subtle ones, the final one being the most subtle and the most difficult to overcome.

In some respects, this kind of profound meditation can be somewhat frightening.  There is no one near us.  We are alone and isolated from the madding crowd.  In my case, I was  seven miles from my nearest neighbor meditating by the light of a kerosene lamp.  When I meditated, not only did it seem like I was in a diving bell, but I was looking at territory I had never seen before.  I was becoming transparent as I was able to see the illusion that I was.  At first it was difficult to get the diving bell to go down deeper but over time it became easier and easier.  It was no longer an uncomfortable process.

Paradoxically, it seemed that the more I was able to see myself as an illusion I was also coming nearer to what I really was—my true nature.  In subsequent years, all my actions finally bore fruit so that I beheld, to my utter amazement, the organic unity: the one true substance phenomenalized into a cosmos.  From all the gods, or devas, to the earthworm, there was only the One Mind with its great compassion which acted to cancel out any vestige of exclusive differentiation.  Hence, nothing could ever be excluded.  In a manner of speaking, every cry the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara hears.  Avalokitesvara is really our ultimate nature forgiving us our long journey into the maze of illusion and lamentation.  It is then that we are poised to overcome the last and most subtle illusion.