The Zennist

What books about Zen should I read?

Not an uncommon question for a beginner is what book about Zen should I read?  Believe me, I have had to do some thinking about this.  It is not that easy—what would I recommend?  There are lots of books about Zen.  I am familiar with many of them.  But for the sincere beginner something special is needed than starting with a book of koans such as Zen Flesh, Zen Bones by Paul Reps, for example.  

Nietzsche was right when he said:  "He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying."  Unfortunately, almost all beginners try to fly into flying.  It is difficult to get them to understand that a book of koans is almost useless without sufficient grounding in Buddhism and how Zen fits in with it.  The same goes with even doing seated meditation.

For the most part, Westerners have only been guessing about Zen Buddhism.  Some of the guesses are refined and very good; others are almost laughable.  Ironically, Zen doesn't go out of its way to be difficult.  In almost every Zen sermon or letter to a student by a Zen master, what Zen is actually pointing to is to be found, but only if beforehand we understand the context of Buddhism and Zen Buddhism, this context being mysticism.  If we fail to comprehend the importance of this context, harking back to Nietzsche's words, we are only standing—not even walking.  Flight at this point is impossible.

Western culture is still not quite capable of understanding Zen or even Buddhism.  When in the 19th century Buddhism was disclosed to the West, many thought it to be a creed of reason without God or a soul, without a heaven or a hell, without miracles, even lacking anything remotely transcendent.  But the West was all wrong.  Buddhism turned out to be a unique religion much broader than the Judeo-Christian concept insofar as there was no need of relationship between man and a personal God.  Buddhism recognizes that all beings have the potential to awaken to the transcendent.  However, the transcendent is hidden and undeveloped within them.  They can't see it because of their unbroken clinging to adventitious phenomena. 

Awakening to the transcendent, which is at the heart of Zen Buddhism, should be recognized in the West as mysticism.  But the Buddhist notion of mysticism, including Zen, is not concerned with sorcery, black magic, divination, or metaphysics.  It is deeply involved with penetrating through the veil of phenomena; seeing on the other side of this veil the very stuff our thoughts and the world are composed of.  In this sense, mysticism can be further described as the apprehension of ultimate reality, a reality, however, empty of all conditioned things and, itself, unconditioned.

If I had a class such as Zen Buddhism 101 much of my lecture would come from Heinrich Dumoulin's book, A History of Zen Buddhism (1963).  I wouldn't follow it to the letter but certain chapters I would cover more thoroughly.  Also, I would supplement Dumoulin's work with Hajime Nakmura's wonderful book, Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples: India-China-Tibet-Japan (1971) especially his sections on China and Japan.

The boundless home

The Zen of Zen master Linji (J., Rinzai) has only one interpretation which is spiritual, not several, at least this is the case for anyone who is attuned to pure Mind; who has witnessed, directly, its luminous, animative nature, including it universality, and its mysterious positive absence where only its phenomena appear.  

When Linji said:

“One man is endlessly on the way, yet has never left home.  Another has left home, yet is not on the way.  Which one deserves the offerings of humans and gods?” (viii)

We need to believe that there is no confusion here.  It is a straightforward fact for anyone who has personally witnessed pure Mind.  When it is seen that phenomena or appearances are Mind-only (composed of pure Mind) so that duality is but an illusion, their home is boundless and transcendent. They actually never left it although it seemed otherwise.  No matter where they go home is present.

As for the other person who wants to become a monk or wants to someday become a Zen master they can't remember their true home so that their path always runs counter to it.  Such a person might believe that pure Mind or the unborn Mind is their awareness, or there is no such thing as kensho (seeing one's true nature)—it’s all a big joke in other words.  Such a person is incapable of overcoming their ignorance which they believe to be knowledge!  

Ironically,  this person is always animated by the power of pure Mind but he or she refuses to turn to it—turned, instead, to the the body of birth and death.  Such people would rather indulge in what is animated.  They are like an idiot who believes that fallen leaves are self-moving because he can't see the wind that moves them!  Such people don't deserve any offerings! 

Religious experiences

While the word "religious experience" can have a number of different meanings it generally refers to special kinds of experiences that are outside the naturalistic world we are so used to living in.  I have observed that some Western Buddhists are uncomfortable with labeling Buddhism as a religion because to their way of thinking the word connotes, in some measure, god of the Bible.  Such a stance, however, is narrow-minded and emotion based.  It refuses to allow the term "religious experience" to apply to Buddhism; keeping it as a Judeo-Christian term.

Buddhism without a religious experience, to my mind, is Buddhism that lacks any gravitas.  It just becomes a matter of following a few basic rules and sitting in meditation.  This is not only an overly simplistic understanding of Buddhism but it borders on being absurd given the obvious profundity of the Buddha's discourses taken as a whole—not selectively cherry picked.  

That a religious experience can be of positive value, even changing the direction of one's life, should not be ignored or impugned.  A religious experience can include a radical shift in a person's sense of agency.  It can also overturn a person's long held presuppositions and beliefs about reality.  Such an experience can be of a profound nature that it can permit one to see, first hand, the very stuff or essence of the universe which to this day science has been unable to do because of its bias towards the immaterial.

Beginning in 1965 my understanding of Buddhism and Zen Buddhism assumed that the Buddha's enlightenment was a religious experience including many of the Zen masters such as the Sixth Patriarch Hui=neng.  This is what drew me to Zen which enabled me to find a wonderful home for my spirit in the Lankavatara Sutra.  Speaking personally, I have had profound religious experiences.  It is a fact that to say otherwise would be a lie.  Such experiences permit me to say that Buddhism is a cosmic religion; that in the farthest galaxy away from ours, there are Buddhists. Those who disagree with me cannot even dream of what the Buddha was really teaching.  Their opinions are merely a reflection of their ignorance of which they cannot bear to let go.

Suffering is not the ātman

Buddhists in the West can easly become blinkered and entrenched in certain views about Buddhism which lead to some very wrong opinions about Buddhism.  The most salient example of a very wrong opinion is that the Buddha denied the ātman (generally translated as "self" even though it doesn't mean self etymologically) when he did not.  In fact, I will go so far as to say that the first noble truth of suffering pertains to what is not the ātman or in Sanskrit, anātman (often transl. into English as nonself or not-self).

First of all we have to understand just what is the first noble truth of suffering.  It is the Five Aggregates that are subject to clinging that is the noble truth of suffering or in Sanskrit, Ārya-satyāni. The Pali Nikayas record the Buddha saying:

"And what, bhikkhus, is the noble truth of suffering?  It should be said: the five aggregates subject to clinging; that is, the form aggregates subject to clinging [to] the consciousness aggregate subject to clinging. This is called the noble truth of suffering" (S. v. 425). 

In other words each of the aggregates is suffering.  Now the question we must ask, are the aggregates ātman or not the ātman (S., anātman/P., anattā)?  Again, here is what the Pali Nikayas tell us:

"At Sāvathī. "Monks, form is not the ātman [in Sanskrit and Pali, anātman, anattā].  The cause and condition for the arising of form is also not the ātman.  As form has originated from what is not the ātman, how could it be ātman?  Feeling is not the ātman. . . . Perception is not the ātman. . . . Volitional formations are not the ātman. . . . Consciousness is not the ātman.  The cause and condition for the arising of consciousness is also not the ātman.  As consciousness has originated from what is not the ātman, how could it be ātman?  Seeing thus . . . He understands: ' . . . there is no more of this state of being" (S. iii. 24). 

We discover that each individual aggregate is not the ātman which is also suffering.  Can we conclude, by implication, that the first noble truth of suffering is what is not the ātman or in English, not-self?  Yes we can.  Logic and reason dictate that the first noble truth of suffering is actually not-self.  Nowhere has the Buddha taught that the first noble truth is, in anyway, connected with the ātman.  On the other hand, the Buddha has certainly taught that the Five Aggregates are the first noble truth of suffering each of which is not the ātman.  From this we might also conclude that the cause or origin of suffering is clinging to whatever is not the ātman.

Zazen to samadhi

Zazen or sitting meditation is not without the presence of quietism in which one meets, head-on, the all-too-human world of truck, barter and exchange with, silence and simplicity, abandoning discrimination and rejecting judgement—as much as possible!  The belief here is if any kind of practice is to bring us closer to the absolute it might be quietism.

Quietism coming from Taoism certainly had its influence on Chinese Buddhism when it encountered zazen (坐禅), especially in the school of Zen Buddhism which already had a strong introspective tendency through Buddhism's dhyana.  Zen taught that, potentially, within our minds is to be found the Buddha and by the purification of our mind one could eventually awaken (buddha) to this mind whose substance is, by nature, pure and bright.  But as the practice of zazen or seated meditation became an important part of Zen, in addition to meeting Zen masters for interviews, its true goal was not always upheld.  Zazen acquired a kind of promissory element besides quietism in which sitting held out the promise of enlightenment or made the practice of zazen and enlightenment synonymous which appeared to be the case with Dogen's interpretation.

But the mere act of sitting is insufficient to get us anywhere except deeper in the world of delusion.  The promissory element of zazen, which seems to say that if we keep doing zazen everyday it's going to benefit us, is still persistent and not easy to set aside.  More is needed than just sitting.  One still has to make it though Mumon's "gateless gate" which will only happen when we transcend the conditioned Mu which means we see firsthand the Buddha-nature.  Buddha-nature, the One Mind, pure Mind, True Mind, etc. are all positive.  They betoken a genuine reality.  

If one awakens to this reality zazen is much different; it is not like before.  Mind is realized as purely animative.  It is like a pure light that is directed into the darkness of the psychophysical organism which, in the process, reveals itself and other.  This is what is meant by samadhi which means contemplating your original nature which is the eternal Mind according to Zen master Hui-hai.  This is also to cease wrong thinking.  When we do zazen this way, which is really samadhi, we are increasing the power of our True Mind as compared with the former darkness of our pscyhophysical organism which is all we knew in zazen.  It is like bringing a light into a dark cave.  This is neither quietism nor is it promissory.

Buddhist zombism?

 

Misunderstood, the Buddhist tenet of no ātman or in Pali anattā might be wrongly taken to be a kind of philosophical zombism in which human beings, although seen to act and behave in a world of their making, do so without any need of an ātman (animative principle), mind or consciousness.  If this is the case, human beings are merely the activity of 100 billion neurons, called a brain, which is situated inside of a skull all of which conspire together to produce the activity of the human automaton—our zombie (or if you like something akin to the walking dead in the movies).

In philosophical zombism there is no such thing as the first-person perspective or a first-person science of introspection (contemplation of ātman or contemplation of an essential, primary nature, kensho).  The brain of the zombie human does not entail or suggest anything transcendent—it is self-contained and self-limiting.  It is neurons all the way down.  Whatever emerges, if that is possible, might be more like a boil or a pimple.  Even if consciousness or a soul supervened, it would be nothing more than a brain fart that could not outlast the brain being dependent upon it.

I think many Buddhist have taken the zombism bait because Western culture is marching in that direction, led by academia who is marshaling its forces for the last battle in which the evil forces of materialism hope to prevail.  They carry the banner of thanatism this being the belief in the complete annihilation of ātman, consciousness or a mind.  Nothing in the process we understand as death survives because a material universe has no place for an ātman or consciousness even though, according to the Buddha, it is consciousness, laden with karmic impressions, which transmigrates from one life to the next.  Yes, we are a race of zombies, and science has made us such—not because science is evil but evil people use science for evil ends, hence, the coming of the zombies!

But I dare say, the bad guys have lost their power to make zombies.  Cognitive science met Quantum Mechanics, in the example of Donald Hoffman, Professor, Department of Cognitive Sciences University of California at Irvine.  His astonishing theory has turned cognitive science on its head.  Consciousness is not a product of a brain; rather the brain and the world we think out there is real and permanent is a product of conscious agents.  And oddly, Quantum Mechanics proves this to be the necessary fact—as Max Planck once said, "We cannot get behind consciousness."  Such an approach as Hoffman is taking makes possible, indeed—makes probable—a science of the noumenal.

 

Zen's going to your wits' end

I have only used the phrase "wits' end" a few times (3?) but the more I give it thought, it describes for me where those who have awakened to ultimate reality have had to go.  We can think of it as being at the limit of one's intellectual or mental abilities—even the limits of one's sanity.  In this respect, we have reached a cul-de-sac from where any thought or hope of progress is impossible.  Being at our wits' end cannot be faked if we have ended up as a Buddhist hermit; which is why I stress a retreat of several months or more, far from the madding crowd where you are on your own—really on your own. 

In this process, our hope has to be met with an impenetrable wall of you shall not pass.  Although we have a good idea that we have to see pure Mind or unborn Mind, our plan of attack has to be shut down.  Only pure Mind will allow entry through the gateless gate.  To appreciate this problem in another way, imagine that all your life you've been stuck in horizontal consciousness.  Now you've decided to enter vertical consciousness, but nowhere can you find it!  But don't be dumb!  How can the horizontal be of help to you?  It can't!  It's the same with pure Mind—impure, agitated, concept laden mind can be of no help.  First, you have to stop your path, that is, going horizontal.  This is the wits' end.  Now it is really possible to see pure Mind.

Imagine now, you were sitting in front of a great Zen master.  At some point in the koan exercise he would stop your horizontal ideas of the vertical with a shout or a well timed slap across your face.  The horizontal road would suddenly stop.  There, right now, the vertical.  (But you're not that lucky to find one like this to slap your chops at the right moment!)  Most can only dream of finding such a person to put them at their wits' end, who then gives them the perfect shove into pure Mind.

Zen offers us no easy way: a way on our own terms.  Even if we should meet someone who has realized pure Mind, he or she is going to put us through holy hell to bring us to our wits' end.  It would be better for us to be a hermit.  It would be a longer path but maybe more respected by us should we awaken.  The point I wish to emphasize is we can do it on our own as long as we have a good idea of what we are seeking which is pure Mind (and pure it is).  It is only a matter of time until we hit rock bottom, that is, our wits' end where we are able to see pure Mind on its own terms—not ours.

Wow, was I blind!

I am strongly inclined to believe that there are two essential events in one's life that occur if they are trying to awaken to true reality or the same, the One Mind.  One is the profound comprehension that one is supposed to see ultimate reality in a very real way while the second is to directly see this reality.  Everything else is just a way to get us to these two events.  It doesn't matter if we go to China, South Korea, Japan or some retreat in France.  Our goal is these two important events.  Short of this, I can't see much success.  One lacks a view of Zen that isn't traditional: a view that believes Zen is not a discipline whose aim is awakening or kensho.

Believe it or not, when I stayed with the Zen abbot (I called him sensei), Zen was never clearly laid out.  I got more from D.T. Suzuki in my early morning studies at the temple.  Zazen which just a nice way to escape from sensei's scrutiny, always making sure I was practicing awareness.  Eventually, I got very good at being always aware even when we drank beer together.  I never lost my focus.  Yes, I could see the point of being aware.  It is a good practice for everyone.  But it's not what Zen is ultimately aiming at.  It is aiming at kensho.  This requires a higher kind of thought and reflection, including faith.  Visiting your local Zen center ain't going to do it.

I never lost my faith is Zen's main slogan: see the essential nature (svabhāva) and become Buddha.  Many times I got sidetracked but at the back of my mind I understood what Zen was driving at.  When finally I sought to realize pure Mind (it is the same as the One Mind) I put all that I had into the struggle (C., gongfu).  Finally, one has to go to their wit's end.  There is no other way to explain it except hitherto you've been following your own ideas of awakening which is the wrong way.  Until that is exhausted, the struggle must continue (think of it as a form of purification).

I can really see why one becomes a Buddhist hermit.  Being by yourself allows you to focus.  There is a constant reminder around you that this is a spiritual journey.  You cannot leave it.  Once you have a head of steam, you have to keep pushing and practicing.  And mark my words.  You will eventually come to your wit's end.  Every fibre of your being also comes to this end.  It is like dying.  Nothing has any value—still you keep on struggling thinking, "What is pure Mind?  Where is it in my noggin?"  Looking back I was dumb and stubborn.  Now looking at the Zen books I once read it is all over the place.  That is all the Zen masters talked about.  It was seeing ultimate reality.  Wow, was I blind!

A theoretical beginning

During my first introduction to Zen I was not aware of zazen or the way it is  presented today: Zen is about sitting for long periods of time on a cushion.  The Zen I was introduced to was in a college classroom by a professor who knew D.T. Suzuki very well (even had ice-cream with him).  I saw no films about Zen (this was back in 1964) in which monks were doing zazen.  My Zen came from D.T. Suzuki who was Rinzai.  In the books of his I read, zazen was not of importance the way it is in Soto Zen these days.  Zazen was a useful means, but not the only means.

Looking back on this, my Zen journey began with, let's say, the theoretical, and ended up in practice or what in Chinese Zen is called gongfu in which the adept throws their entire being into trying to achieve awakening.  This is probably the right way to go rather than starting out with practicing zazen which can become somewhat meaningless without understanding what it is aiming at.   

We have to remember that Zen's goal is not about our ability to sit for long periods of time in a rigid posture that zazen demands.   Zen's goal is seeing our true nature.  This nature is not something for sensory consciousness, either.  It is most primordial.  It is the very stuff from which our thoughts are composed including physical reality.

Zen's uniqueness is not zazen or koans.  It is about telling us what the real goal of Buddhism is; making its goal simple and straightforward.  It is too easy to get wrapped up on the sitting side of Zen as if that will lead us to kensho.  But sitting with a group of people is not all that conducive to seeing what this nature is.  There has to be some theoretical groundwork done before we undertake the practice of zazen (the Four Slogans of Zen never mention zazen).  This way we can insure that Zen as dhyana is practiced not just in the form of sitting but during the time when we work, because dhyana or Zen is not a physical thing.  It is about penetrating through the layers of our thoughts from gross to subtle until we find the substance of these thoughts—our true nature.

Was the Buddha a nice person?

A nice person is not exactly like a friend, but close.  It is not difficult to spot a nice  person.  They usually go out of their way to help you when you really need help.  You feel secure with them.  There is hardly any tension present.  They may have an inner mechanism that makes them feel bad about themselves if they cause harm to others.  Also, they generally make good students.  In a business you want some employees who are nice people.  They don't get smart with the customers.  They go out of their way to help others.   

Above all, nice people tend to forgive others; moreover they are sympathetic.  They don't as a rule prejudge others or hold a grudge.  The business and medical world need them as do most government bureaucracies (I can think of many other places where nice people are needed).

So here I come to the big question, "Was the Buddha a nice person?"  And was his teaching mainly about how to become a nice person?  The shocking answer is no, the Buddha wasn't a nice person; nor is Buddhism about teaching people how to be nice.

A teacher like the Buddha had nothing to lose by being direct with his followers.  He was beyond being nice and not so nice.  Life was short—the Buddha's teaching was subtle and complex.  There was little time to waste and a great sense of urgency on the part of the Buddha.  There was also little tolerance for the puthujjanas (worldly run-of-the-mill people), including little tolerance for their spiritual dullness.

There was only one goal, awaken (become a Buddha).  For many this was not possible so the Buddha did not waste his efforts on them.  The stream entered were more important and those who had the ability to enter the stream to nirvana.  The Buddha taught relative to his awakening which meant his teaching was not easy.  Buddhism is not about teaching people how to be nice.  We are supposed to be that way, naturally.  It is part of being a human being.  When we cease becoming nice people, maybe Buddhism can help us a little. But odds are, we will not awaken in this lifetime.