Sometime around the late 1960s, my idea of Zen, or what I thought Zen should be, was an experiential encounter with the absolute, in this sense the 'sacred', by which I became transformed. Said another way, Zen meant for me a "sacred encounter" with the absolute. As of 1969 the absolute had become pure Mind. I had faith back then that gnosis of pure Mind was attainable which meant I had to follow its footsteps. It sure was not going to follow mine.
Let me pause here. There is something I have to say about following these footsteps as compared with those of a teacher I could see and communicate with. By following the teacher's footsteps, eventually, I came to see that it was not so much a commitment to a sacred encounter as it was a commitment to please him—to see things his way. As I studied the works of the Zen masters, it became more and more obvious to me that all of the great teachers had an experiential encounter with the absolute. I didn't hear this coming from my teacher or the institution of Zen. Yet, the message was there all along. For those committed to the institution they glossed over it so as to reduce its importance to almost zero.
Let me call these particular footsteps "sacred footsteps" which are in front of you; which you can't seem to catch up with; which don't seem interested in your theatrics and whining. To be sure, they are leading you. And you sense this after it has dawned on your pea-brain that you must have a sacred encounter with pure Mind.
How many Zen adepts even get to this point? I dare say not very many. They are too busy following the footsteps of their teacher or the institution—or worse still, they are following their vanity to the summit of their pride! All in all, they are hedging their bets that this is the right way to go! They've bet their life on it.
By following the sacred footsteps it is far more dangerous. It is face climbing in Yosemite alone when the first snows come. If you should fall, that's it. But we are not climbing. This is just a metaphor. You don't fall into an abyss. The whole idea is to fall—and fall completely—after you have reached your greatest heights. This is when the sacred footsteps stop. You walk right into them. You get the sacred glimpse. That's it. Yes, just that. How amazing it is. How pure. From this all the world is made.
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