The Zennist

A special challenge

It is easy to speculate about Zen Buddhism in a superficial way or even, pejoratively, forming various opinions and ideas of what Zen is about.  Treating Zen this way, it becomes nothing more than a plaything of our imagination  This is a waste of time.  Here the individual is under the sway of their own preconceived opinions and ideas which also includes a world-view of which they may not be aware.

Those who decide to go to a Zen center to study with a teacher fare a little better than those who read about Zen off of a computer monitor looking for quick answers, but more, looking to see if Zen tallies with their own impression of what they imagine Zen to be.  

In my own example, I found some benefit from studying with a Zen teacher but it was nothing of profound benefit.  Being exposed, however, to various books on Zen and being in a Zen temple helped.  Also having an open mind helped, tremendously.  Zen was for me, at 20 years of age, still a mystery.  It took me a while to get the scent of Zen; to know where to look and what is not worth the trouble.  

What I was reading in the temple that was intended to connect me with the basics of Zen Buddhism, over time, started to make sense.  It seemed like I was making progress.  But nothing impressed me as much as realizing that all Zen masters had an epiphany that revealed what Zen was all about, this being our true nature which lay hidden in us by our deep seated opinions and ideas—one piled upon the other.  This may not sound like very much, but in my case the Zen epiphany, I reasoned, was the only key that could unlock the door.  There was no other way by which to see what the Zen masters saw, including the Buddha.

At this point Zen becomes very personal and serious.  A severe challenge begins to take shape, a challenge that forces one to relinquish everything so that there is nothing to lay hold of.  There can be no avenue of escape; no fallback position.  There can’t be anymore armchair Zen, either.  The severity of the challenge, as we might expect, is relative to how much we choose to resist what Zen is trying to communicate to us which always aims beyond our conceptualizations which only act to stir the mind making the pristine nature of mind always seem absent and satori impossible.

Beyond the mode of birth and death

 Watching the ocean waves or just watching the ripples on a small pond we are witnessing the inexpressible, non-separateness of the substance or element of water and its mode which are the waves.  There is no knife than can separate substance from its modes (i.e., modification of the substance).  With the cessation of the mode or the wave, the substance is with itself.  With the arising of the substance it becomes modal. 

Likewise, something seemingly arises in front of our mind’s eye which appears always different from us.  However, we cannot detect our self in what arises. even though, paradoxically, we sense what faces us always to be connected with us.  Our self escapes us. 

From our human standpoint, surprisingly, we are substance and its mode except that we don’t see it that way.  We  only see the modal portion of our existence which is what the Buddha says is impermanent, suffering, and insubstantial.  Perhaps it is like seeing waves without water, if you can imagine that, or our everyday thoughts consisting of a substance we cannot detect.

The task that Buddhism puts before us, and more so Zen Buddhism, is to discover our true nature which is substantive, which we might call ‘a-modal’ (Zen masters like Bankei will call the amodal the Unborn Mind).  But are we up to the task?  The answer we don’t want to hear is, “No we are not up to the task.”  We are unwilling to accept the fact that the modal is a dependent arising of the substance.  In this regard it is empty of substance.  Only the substance is actual, nothing else is.  To realize this substance, which we are but don’t realize it yet, the modal must drop away.  When the substance stands in its own right free we are liberated.  We are beyond the mode of birth and death.

Beginning with a wrong opinion

It is an old and wise truism that when everyone thinks alike, everyone is likely to be wrong.  When one or two professors, for example, pass on to their students a wrong opinion which again gets passed on again and again, pretty soon a great error is memorialized.  It becomes next to impossible to reverse it.

This is what happened to Buddhism when a few professors believed that the Buddha fought against Brahmanism’s belief in a self or âtman.   Implicit in such a belief—it should be quite obvious—there is no need to know yourself since there is no self to know!  But at the back of our minds we are not convinced; nor was the Buddha convinced.  He realized that the psychophysical body consisting of physical shape, feeling, perception, volitional formations and consciousness was not the whole package—and we are intrinsically independent of it.  

The Buddha taught his followers that they are not physical shape.  Physical shape is changing and suffering, it was also murderous.  If you want to identify with it, do so at your own peril.  The same goes with feeling, perception, volitional formations and consciousness.  Don’t identify with them as being who you really are.  They are not your self is what the Buddha taught—not that there is no self.  

From this we can easily see what is at the heart of Buddhist soteriology—and  it sure is not the absence of a self.  Buddhist soteriology is about saving the self, preventing it from getting bound up with the psychophysical organism, so much so, that it can’t distinguish itself from the body which is always finite and changing.  As a result, there is rebirth.  Never once does the Buddha say anything good about the psychophysical body.  It is even equated with Mara the Evil One (S. iii. 189).  On the other hand, never once does the Buddha deprecate the self.  He even likens it to an island and a refuge.  Incidentally, both island and refuge also refer to nirvana.

Earlier when I mentioned that implicit with the belief that the Buddha denied the self there follows from this:  there is no need to know our self.  As a consequence of this, Buddhism becomes reduced to a doctrine of materialism.  Hence, what man is, is the sum of his body parts.  But the Buddha never says this or anything like this.  What man truly is, is the unborn, the unoriginated, the increate, and the unformed, but because he beholds other than this he is convinced that he is born, originated, created, and formed.  

Despite what I have said a false Buddhism will continue, one absent of soteriology.

The mystical element

I certainly agree with Heinrich Domoulin who said, “The mystical element is an essential part of Buddhism,” but it needs to be further stated that Zen Buddhism has historically been one of the traditions of Chinese Buddhism in which the mystical element is the entire tradition which is supposedly transmitted.  

It may surprise the reader of this blog, but the mystical element is hidden from view in the teachings of modern Zen.  It has been replaced by self-help psychology.  In the four slogans of Zen, we can still see the mystical element. 

A special transmission outside the teaching;
Without dependence upon written words;
Pointing directly to the mind of man;
Seeing into one's nature, realizing Buddhahood.

The last slogan is an explicit statement about seeing the mystical element which has many sundry names from One Mind, Mind-ground, pure Mind, to our true nature.  Becoming awakened to this nature, which is the meaning of becoming Buddha, certainly transcends teaching about it, the teaching acting like a finger pointing to the moon.  Nor does this nature rely on words and letters.  

Still, this nature  is to be found within us.  It is the very substance of our thoughts.  It is what animates this mortal body of ours; raising a finger or raising a monk’s staff or just walking.  It speaks—it says “Mu,” or “Cypress tree in the courtyard,” or such nonsensical things as, “The eastern mountain sails on the river.”  But all these are just its expressions (yung)—not it, our true nature.  Zen demands that we directly merge with this nature which is wholly and purely animative.  This is why the Buddha called it the luminous or clear light Mind. 

The more and the longer modern Zen ignores the mystical element of Zen the shorter will be its survival.  I agree with Alan Watts who said, "The most strongly enforced of all known taboos is the taboo against knowing who or what you really are behind the mask of your apparently separate, independent, and isolated ego" (The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are).

Taking secularism out of Buddhism

Secularism isn't a truth or even verifiable.  It is a particular world view like any other, for example, materialism.  We could even think of it as a way of dealing with religion in the most general and  superficial sense in which religion has a neutral value.  It isn't good or bad.  Religion is just about how to live your life, which is up to the individual.  

This is not to suggest that religion, including Buddhism, has been, in a manner of speaking, relegated to a psychiatric hospital.  It just means that religion has no longer any ability to persuade the typical modern.  On the same score, this implies that an individual could be persuaded to follow a certain religion with a good marketing strategy just like, today, people believe in the big bang and black holes, although there is no such thing.  This is the result of effective marketing—not truth.

The secular narrative is not, presently, without a good marketing strategy.  It has within it a certain appeal to a certain type of individual.  It is only a matter of profiling and exploiting such individuals that makes secularism seem popular.  You can't sell it to hardcore Southern Baptists but you can market it to a certain segment of society that is unconsciously still sympathetic with Protestantism's 'faith to doubt' and the 'questioning of authority'. 

Secularism is too flat to be of any lasting appeal.  Buddhism would certainly have more appeal if it were taken out of the hands of so-called secular Buddhists who are working day and night to suppress the real message of the Buddha, namely, that within each person lies the path to  the real meaning of life which culminates in seeing, directly, what this universe is really made of, including our very thoughts.

The seeds of secularism begin with Protestantism which questions transcendence; which makes it seem no more possible since God as Christ as died or really never was.  But God only died in the West.  He wasn't needed in the part of the world that embraced Buddhism and its many forms.  In Buddhism, man’s true nature is the Buddha-nature which is transcendent.  He only has to remove the illusion that makes it seem absent.  Put it in simpler words, man’s intrinsic nature has always transcended his temporal life, even his birth and death.  In his present state, he doesn’t see it.  Nevertheless, it is real.  The task for Buddhist today is put an end to secularism thus making Buddhism relevant to today’s Western culture.  

Thoughts on the Nirvana-principle

How much does the Buddha's nirvana fall within the bookends of the Nirvana-principle a term which Freud borrowed from Barbara Low?  According to Low,

“It is possible that deeper than the Pleasure-principle lies the Nirvana-principle, as one may call it—the desire of the newborn creature to return to that stage of omnipotence, where there are no non-fulfilled desires, in which it existed within the mother's womb. Freud has pointed out that Birth is no new beginning in the psychic life of the individual (any more than in his physical life), but rather an event which serves as an interruption to his ante natal situation. It is an interruption terrific and painful in its intensity and suddenness, but one which cannot obliterate the individual's desire for the earlier situation, to which throughout life he seeks to return, and thus to revert to his beloved Omnipotence, once again free from all external and internal checks" (Psycho-analysis A Brief Account of the Freudian Theory, p. 73).

As much as there might be the sudden urge to scout what Low has to say for various reasons, which I shall not go into; upon further reflection, when I saw the term "antenatal" I was reminded that nirvana is described the following way by the Buddha.

"Monks, there is a not-born, a not-become, a not-made, a not-compounded.  Monks, if that unborn, not-become, not-made, not-compounded were not, there would be apparent no escape from this here that is born, become, made, compounded.  But since, monks, there is an unborn ... therefore the escape from this here is born, become ... is apparent" (Udâna 80-81).

Assuming Low is correct in her account of Freud that birth is "no new beginning in the psychic life of the individual" the antenatal state is even prior to being in the womb.  The Nirvana-principle is, therefore, not a desire to return to the womb, and by doing so negate life, but instead a vague and imperfect recollection of primordial felicity.  We might also consider that there is a natural drive to nirvana, but an imperfect one which is laden with karma which adds up to adumbrations of nirvana—not actual nirvana.  Perhaps this is our idealism; our utopian dream of a better world.

Short of reaching the other shore of nirvana, the Nirvana-principle, which might be deeper than the Pleasure-principle, tends always to remind us of life's finitude, conditionality and, more importantly, that suffering and death are never far away.  Said another way, life with its obvious pleasures is regulated by the Nirvana-principle.  Ultimately, if nirvana is realized, pleasure or sukha is infinite, not finite.  But this is not where Freud has gone.  Based on what Barbara Low has said and others, I see no reason why some of this can't be woven into Buddhism. I have tried it a little, and find it interesting.

Zen under siege

At times, I think Westerners don’t seem to like either Buddhism or Zen Buddhism.  Why do I say this?  Well, it’s not too difficult when, for example, you examine very popular contemporary books about Zen such as Zen and the Brain by James Austin which is not a book about Zen so much as it is an attempt to reduce Zen to brain functions which suggests, at least the way I see it, that the brain is the Buddha (i.e., the awakened one) insofar as all experience—even awakening (sambodhi)—is subordinated to the brain.  

Such ideas may go further so as to permit us to conclude that our brain acts by itself which is absurd.  It is always the self that transcends the brain who acts.  When this self acts the brain functions.  When the self thinks certain pathways become active.  The brain doesn’t think anymore than watching an automobile’s front tires moving right and left lead us to conclude that the automobile is doing this when it is the driver who is not a mechanical thing.

Zen, simply put, can’t be reduced to brain functions.  It’s not authentic Zen.  Nor can Zen be reduced to the physical act of just sitting in meditation which many Westerners seem to believe it can be.  When Western Zen teachers teach their students that meditation is the most important aspect of Zen they err.  

Zen is under siege insofar as its core principle in the West is being all but ignored which asks us to see our true nature and become awakened (buddha).  According to Zen master Huang-po:

“Your true nature is something never lost to you even in moments of delusion, nor is it gained at the moment of Enlightenment. It is the Nature of the Bhutatathata. In it is neither delusion nor right understanding. It fills the Void everywhere and is intrinsically of the substance of the One Mind” (trans. Blofeld).

Sounds simple, but such words as these are foreign to Western ears.  Huang-po’s words have the ring of ‘mysticism’ or the same, the esoteric, which gets thumbs down from most Westerners.  It’s mumbo jumbo, not backed by science as if today’s science has the final say on what is ultimate reality.  Be that as it may, the siege is on and has been on for some time.  Zen, for now, will have public acceptance only if it rejects the esoteric.  Only then will it be allowed a fair hearing.  But this means the destruction of Zen. 

The two truths of Nagarjuna

Echoing Nagarjuna’s two truths the Buddha taught a conditioned reality and an unconditioned reality which he personally realized in deepest meditation.  In order to get to the latter, which is ultimate, we have to use the former which is conventional or worldly, otherwise the unconditioned truth cannot be taught.  It is like serving food.  A plate and flatware are required, although they are not food.  

Conventional information such as the Buddha’s discourses is, at bottom, like a raft which can be useful for crossing to the other shore of awakening—but the raft is of no ultimate value.  In the same way, these discourses can help to orient us, properly, to where lies the unconditioned truth, which is transcendent.  

Conventional knowledge is capable of preparing  us, in other words, to see the absolute.  But this same knowledge may well deceive us if we are not careful.  By deceiving us, we might believe we are on the right path still believing that the fluctuating, temporal mind is the true Mind.  

Conventional truth, because it is conditioned, also veils the unconditioned.  The veiling is meant to conceal, not reveal.  Under the burden of ignorance the average person (prithagjana) has to undeceive themselves, constantly, which is a difficult task.  Indeed, the average person is wrongly trying to make conventional sense of the Buddha’s teaching which is contrary to the conventional.  There is, properly, no conventional reading of Buddhism whereby one sees what the Buddha saw becoming awakened. 

Conventionally, for example, I can say the first noble truth is suffering but from the awakened, unconditioned perspective suffering only arises by attaching to the conditioned.  To be totally free of suffering one has to undeceive themselves which is to say, in other words, fully detach themselves from the psychophysical body of suffering in such a way that they are fully and completely reliant on the unconditioned.  This is where conventional truth cannot pass.  It is more like Mumon’s gateless barrier.

Something to live for

Without something to live for, life soon becomes drudgery which brings us to questioning the very meaning of our human existence.  We cannot just live to live or live like the characters, Estragon and Vladimir, in Samuel Beckett’s play, Waiting for Godot, who keep waiting for Godot.  Maybe we can find some meaning in a loved one, having a family, pets, our job, just to name a few things.  But for many of us this is not enough.  Life still can become empty and meaningless not to mention lonely.  

Often we turn to religion for answers in the quest to know what we are living for, or what life is really about, or who I really am.  While its promises are intriguing, often we don’t find that it gives much more than hope, hope that after we die we will live a better life than this one.  In this respect religion is more like having an extra thumb.  It is really not helping us to deal with the darker side of life or how to live life more fully and completely.  We have Medicare and Social Security to help us that does a more effective job, in some examples, than any religion or any faith-based organization.    

Most people, surprisingly, several times during their lifetimes question or even wonder about the meaning of life or who they really are.  But it is usually never at the level of , “I am living this life to find out who I really am.”  They are more like pendulums who swing back and forth between, say, seeking the meaning of their existence and becoming caught up in temporal and material concerns.

The job of a Zen teacher or even a Buddhist teacher is to sell the importance of seeking our true nature—that we even have one!  I suspect that many people use Zen Buddhism to learn meditation so they can learn how to relax rather than always being tense and uptight.  However, this is not what Zen is all about or Buddhism.  It’s about seeing our true nature which is satori (Chinese wu).  D.T. Suzuki addresses this matter in clearest words.

“Zen devoid of satori is like a sun without its light and heat. Zen may lose all its literature, all its monasteries, and all its paraphernalia; but as long as there is satori in it it will survive to eternity. I want to emphasize this most fundamental fact concerning the very life of Zen; for there are some even among the students of Zen themselves who are blind to this central fact and are apt to think when Zen has been explained away logically or psychologically, or as one of the Buddhist philosophies which can be summed up by using highly technical and conceptual Buddhist phrases, Zen is exhausted, and there remains nothing in it that makes it what it is. But my contention is, the life of Zen begins with the opening of satori (kai wu in Chinese)” (Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism (New York: Grove Press, 1961), 230).

We need hope, but more what we need is a real path with an authentic awakening so that we might realize not only our true nature once and for all but at the same time, also realize the true essence of our universe.  There is nothing higher and more noble.  But I am afraid that few even hear the call.

Protestant Buddhism

 In the very near future I hope to be doing a blog or two which I shall term for now as the Protestantization of Buddhism (include Zen in that, also).  One of the leading proponents of this is Stephen Batchelor and those who follow his ideas—or should I say, ideology?

It almost goes without saying this, but Batchelor has been very critical of Buddhism, in general.  He disrobed twice: once in Tibetan Buddhism and once in Korean Zen.  This is fitting for someone with a Protestant attitude especially when Holmes Hartshorne reminds Protestants “of their responsibility to be critical of religion, especially their own” (The Faith to Doubt,  p. x).  

It is no surprise that Batchelor and secular Buddhists are critical of their own religion which is Buddhism.  But then the question arises, how much are we supposed to doubt our religion which happens to be Buddhism, including Zen?  Arguably, Batchelor went too far with his book entitled, Buddhism Without Beliefs (1997).  It came not too long after his other book, The Faith to Doubt (1990) which, curiously, bears the same title as Hartshorne’s book, The Faith to Doubt (1963).

As Buddhists with strong Protestant leanings, for Batchelor and his followers there can be no privileged truth nor incontestable values; moreover that criticism, they believe, can lead us to truth being like a path.  With this comes faith and doubt, the faith that gives courage and makes radical doubt feasible and justifiable, for it transcends all error, or so it is believed.  But is this really an authentic reverence for the Buddha’s teaching and the truth? Isn’t Batchelor really trying to make a new understanding of Buddhism as if to suggest that his interpretation of Buddhism offers a better form of Buddhism—a Protestant form—one more suitable for the modern world in which each individual decides for himself whether a doctrine is true or not based upon their peculiar needs?