The Zennist

Yep, Buddhism in a unique form of monism

Buddhism is monism but not monotheism.  The former denies any fundamental duality while the latter is the doctrine that there is only one God.  The two are quite different.  Monism by far is the most subtle of the two.  It can be illustrated by the ocean with its ever-changing waves.  In other words, the simple element of water can become waves which are never the same—yet which are fundamentally only water.  Waves, I would add, are accidents, that is, they are not essential to the nature of water.  Only the water is real.  All else is empty and illusory.

The entire cosmos is only Mind.  What we see through this body we inhabit is empty and illusory—not essential to Mind.  But all this is for a reason which shall be explained later.

All that we know and can see is what is empty and illusory.  Just name and form (nāma-rūpa), a differentiation of the original Mind.  In this predicament we are unable see our self.  We only see guess-works of our self which amount to simulacra or representations of our self—never our true self which is Mind.

Despite this appalling condition there is a way out.  This is what the Buddha discovered.

Since we are, intrinsically, Mind we have only to penetrate through this empty and illusory phenomenalization of Mind, namely, our agitated, ever changing thoughts, like a laser adjusting down on a dimensionless point.  This is then like a door which opens to our self or Mind from whence we first began. 

The seeing of this dimensionless point is suddenly followed by a flood of psychical, vital light that continues for many hours.  What this all adds up to is that we have penetrated through the veil of mind phenomena.  Using our previous analogy, instead of seeing waves, we enter the water which we always were; which is where we began.  Now when we look at this ocean, even with its waves, we only see water.

The One Mind in order to behold itself first causes a contrast by phenomenalizing itself—creating as it were a false other.  Then confronted by its own phenomena it passes through it and out of it returning to itself.  By this return phenomena is saved, so to speak.  It was always heuristic.  But the big payoff is freedom from further suffering.  Nothing changes yet everything changes. 

Are koans necessary?

The following quote is taken from Ding-Hwa Evelyn Hsieh’s paper, Yuan-wu K'o-ch'in's (1063-1135) Teaching of Ch'an Kung-an Practice (emphasis is mine).

The compilation of Ch'an kung-an (public case) texts during the Sung dynasty (960-1279) was aimed at producing literati literature. Once the iconoclastic styles of Ch'an pedagogy had been written down as texts annotated with elusive poetry and polished prose, only people with substantial literary credentials—dominantly male—could approach them. This delimitation is further reflected by the fact that Ch'an monks of the Sung had close associations with Sung literati (shih-ta-fu). Ch'an Buddhism in the Sung may thus be generally labeled as a type of "literati Buddhism."

Looking backwards to the beginnings of the Chan tradition, it didn't employ koans.  The was no Blue Cliff Records or the Mumonkan to name just two of the popular koan compilations. 

In the history of Chan, the popularity of koans comes on the heels of Chan's flowering in the Song as somewhat of a concession to the literati of that time who were very powerful and not all Buddhists.

An obvious contradiction of Chan's slogan of "do not depend on written words" 不立文字 the practice of the Chan koan grew into a kind of literary study in which enlightenment, or seeing one's nature (the last slogan), was either modified or entirely ignored.

Chan, itself, is the means—Chan being the direct intuition of the hidden vital principle that animates us.  The Agamas and the Mahayana discourses together with their commentaries were all the literature a Zen adept might require.  The adept could also receive help from their teacher who was like a college professor who knew in what direction to turn the student.  That is the way I learned with the help of Bishop Nippo who was a professor at the California Institute of Asian Studies which was located on 3494 21st Street, San Francisco.

Koans are not really necessary in Zen.  What is necessary is understanding that the path is inside of our own heads.   If we awaken, it will take place in our mind; in a split second we will transcend the subject/object duality of consciousness (vijñāna), entering into the One Mind (ekacitta).

Zen's context

The context of Zen is to be found within Buddhism and can only be understood from the larger context of Buddhism.  The overarching context of Buddhism involves man’s search for the transcendent which is unconditioned; whose nature is different than the conditioned.

“Bhikkhus, there are these three characteristics that define the unconditioned (asaṅkhata).  What three?  No arising is seen, no vanishing is seen, and no alteration while it persists is seen.  These are the three characteristics that define the unconditioned” (A. i. 152).

With the discovery of the unconditioned in us, which lies concealed by the conditioned, there is liberation for us insofar as we can get behind phenomena (the conditioned) whereas before we were caught up in it, this being samsara.  Put another way, we are now able to become more of the unconditioned and less of the conditioned as we become more familiar with the unconditioned through many samadhis, or connections with it.

Zen, from this context, simply cuts to the chase, its adept is focused on awakening to the unconditioned, i.e., their true nature.  If Zen were a book it would require just one page but so would Buddhism except that the latter consists of many different kinds of skillful means, so it requires a few more pages.

Looked at from another angle this context is not postmodern—not by any measure.  Postmodernism wants to get rid of the idea that there is any kind of intrinsic nature and with it the unconditioned.  But according to Buddhism there is an ātman, or the same, a Buddha-nature but one not representing the conditioned psychophysical body which the Buddha referred to as the anātman or not-self (you could even say, not Buddha-nature).  This not-self was understood by the Buddha to be evil. 

Postmodernism’s project is to deconstruct reason, truth and reality because its adherents believe these elements are the cause of oppression and destruction. They even equate reason with power in a destructive sense.  But this leaves us with nothing if not total nihilism and purposelessness.  The irony to be appreciated is that postmodernism not only destroys its target but in so doing, destroys itself at the same time.

Keeping Zen in its proper context is not easy.  It may be necessary to protect Zen Buddhism from being influenced by postmodern tendencies because they are clearly outside of Zen and totally destructive to it.

Going down a humanistic road

My life that I had dedicated to Zen Buddhism was not without an influx of ideologized liberal thought (i.e., change the world before you change yourself) from which I had managed to escape, despite its spreading power under the rubric of the Great Society (64–65).  The history behind this, as I had later come to learn, was still on the track of humanistic Marxism which came after the breakdown of the Second International (the divide between Soviet Marxist-Leninism and Western humanistic Marxism). 

In the face of the politics of the time, my mind became totally focused on Zen Buddhism.  My love for this path took all of my attention—everything else was a side issue.  Unlike many of this time who studied Zen, I had no problem seeing where it wanted to lead.  Zen, for me, was no different than the spiritual awakening of Plotinus whose soul entered into communion with the primordial Light by which it became enlightened.  But for countless others, they couldn’t orient themselves in this direction—certainly not enter into communion with this vital spiritual light that animated their entire being which I dare say is the truth of Zen Buddhism.

Looking back to that tumultuous  time, many who practiced Zen went down the liberal road, a road that has been paved by humanistic Marxism.  An example of this type is Joan Jiko Halifax Roshi Ph.D., who is a successful mover and shaker of Zen; who along with others of her kind have been instrumental in building an ecclesiastical Zen which is on the track of social justice. 

This paved road, as I see it, is one in which we, as individuals, are still trapped in primordial ignorance (avidya) in whose hearts there is an ever present confusion about what is good and what is evil such that we can always deceive ourselves doing evil but believing it is good; that this is the path Siddhartha took before he awakened and became the Buddha.

The modern history of Zen with its attention to social justice is not like the Chinese history of Zen in which individuals believed that seeing one’s nature came first; who applied themselves to that difficult task, often alone and rejected by their society.  Modern Zen is in a very confused state.  I tend to doubt that it can realize where it is going wrong.

Radio people deny the radio signal

If we were radio people we would deny the existence of a radio signal and insist that all this comes from us.  We would find the theory of a radio signal body to be reprehensible.  Even more outrageous, would be the idea that we could converge with this radio signal body and be that body.  This illustration is not far-fetched, at least not in Buddhism.

We find such a body mentioned in the Pali Nikayas a number of times which is a spiritual body, which is like a sword drawn from its scabbard.  We also find this body described in the Lankavatara Sutra.

"By manomaya ['as willed'] is meant the power to move about as speedily and unobstructedly as is willed. Like the mind that moves unobstructedly over mountains, walls, rivers, trees, and other objects, even beyond many hundreds of thousands of yojanas, by merely thinking of objects seen and perceived previously, with its own thought continuously and uninterruptedly working regardless of the limitations of the body; so when the manomayakaya is obtained in the realisation of the samadhi known as mayopama [māyā-like], one acquires the ten Powers (bala), the tenfold Self-mastery (vaśita), and the six Psychic Faculties (abhijñā), is adorned with the distinguishing marks, and born in the family of Holy Path, and, thinking of the objects of his original vow which is to bring all beings to full maturity, moves about among them as unobstructedly as the mind moves on.”

The manomaya is none other than the animative principle of our corporeal body of birth, but not limited by it—certainly not limited by its death!  Over time it is realized by the adept after their initial awakening to pure Mind.  As samadhi increases over many years (our constant reconnecting with pure Mind), the adept becomes more of the animative principle, withdrawing from their previous attachment to the corporeal body which has been a matter of habit.  There comes a time when the manomayakaya dominates the corporeal body.

From the standpoint of evolutionary theory, man should eventually rise to the level of being foremost a spiritual entity with the corporeal body as subordinate; not like it is now with the corporeal body dominating our existence with no sign of a spiritual body! 

 

 

The test for all religions

If we were to jump into a time machine and go back to the beginning of most religions we would not find a single one to be about believing in an external deity or God who from their throne, so to speak, created heaven and earth.  This very idea is dualistic in the sense of creating an unbridgeable difference between the absolute, or the One, and its expression. 

The world we live in is no more of a difference from the One than an ocean wave can be believed to be different from water or wind to be different from the air that we breathe.  But for the mind held in bondage by religious dualism, viz., God and his creations, there can be no salvation—only blindness.  It is somewhat the same with those who adhere to physicalism; who are in bondage to physical plurality and relativity; who cannot see that this is but an outward, illusory expression of the One that serves to reveal the intrinsic power and essence of the One to itself.

Judaism, Christianity and even Islam show an almost total corruption of the original revelation.  Buddhism, fortunately, because it rests upon the teaching of direct gnosis is far less corrupted although I dare say that it is not completely without corruption.  The test for all these religions is can they return to each their original revelation which was, essentially, mystical and non-dual?

I certainly would not bet on Judaism, Christianity or Islam.  On that same score, it was Zen Buddhism that saved Buddhism in China from being corrupted which was, subsequently, allowed to spread its wings and deliver the Buddha’s authentic revelation.  But even Zen became corrupted turning Zen on its head where it grew into a teaching of seated-Zen rather than spiritual gnosis or kensho.

Liberal orthodoxy: the giant step backwards

To analyze what I shall term “liberal orthodoxy” which is a species of humanitarian Marxism, from a Buddhist point of view is first to know that our very thoughts are compositions or the same, constructs.  What they are constructed from is absolute, namely, Mind (not to be confused with consciousness).  This is true, not as a matter of faith (although in the beginning it is) but because of direct gnosis (J., kensho).  This gnosis occurs with the collapse of consciousness (subject-object knowing = vijñāna) in which the observing subject and thought (the object) vanish, returning into the original unity causing, as a result, a correction in which the adept experiences reality as it truly is (yathābhūtam).  This is also known a sudden enlightenment.

Compared with the Buddhist perspective, modern thought is never other than ungrounded and dependent.  It stops with the observing subject and thought (the object).  It can go no further.  This is its defect and the central problem inherent in modernity.  It is a world of constant deception and anxiety; of almost constant upheaval and ennui.

Turning now to modernity’s immature child, liberal orthodoxy which is the subject of today’s blog, it consists of a set of dogmas which depend upon certain unique thought constructs that have been, over time, reified such that they become thing-like and emotionally dense. 

Take liberal orthodoxy's term “racism” for example.  Analyzed down to its thought constructs which give this term its specific outline or definition, it is empty of a racist essence.  We can think of such an essence as being like the wind which has a specific wind speed and direction but is only air in motion, there being no real wind essence.  In sum, the commitment to ending racism is based upon little more than illusory thought constructions.

Even with a powerful commitment to the external suppression of racism through legislation, racism doesn’t come to an end because the definition is always relative to newer, modified thought constructions which can always be added.  For example, the idea-construct of “white privilege” can be added to racism followed by the external commitment to suppress white males.  There is no end to such additions.

This also applies to other liberal orthodox terms such as antisemitism and misogyny which, like racism, are both capable of broadening the original definition.  The idea of “hatred” is still another such thought construct which is ungrounded in which the borders of the definition are expanding to include even various forms of speech as being hateful.

Liberal orthodoxy runs counter to Buddhism insofar as it refuses to accept the changing and illusory nature of thought.  This is apparent in the beginning stages of meditation when the adept observes the ever changing stream of thoughts and emotions that take place within them.  In actual Zen training, the adept is forced to give up fixed forms of thought; to accept their transitory nature and the inescapable vicissitudes of life that confront every conditioned sentient creature.  This also includes accepting the finitude of the asmimāna (the I-concept) which is only the subject/individual arising as a result of the corporeal embodiment of consciousness (vijñāna) which is laid out in the 12-nidānas beginning with ignorance.

If anything, liberal orthodoxy is a giant, destructive step backwards.  By comparison, Buddhism is the true Weltgeist because it alone knows the correct path that leads the human spirit to profound knowledge of itself; the undeniable fact that the vital principle that animates all living creatures in the cosmos is absolute and undying.  This is what religions often refer to as god but it is not quite the same insofar as Buddhism includes spiritual evolution which requires a certain kind of moral behavior unlike liberal orthodoxy which is, primarily, amoral and degenerative.

Zen cannot be taught to poor learners

Today we put a lot of emphasis upon the importance of the teacher especially when it comes to Zen Buddhism. Many would-be students expect the teacher to be able to work wonders and enlighten them almost on the spot. But what if most would-be students are actually ‘poor learners' who have come to the door of the Buddhist temple, so to speak, with certain expectations about Zen which have nothing to do with Zen? 

Obviously, they need to unlearn what they have learned which is an impediment as far as learning Zen is concerned. 

It sounds simple to say this, but Zen cannot be taught to poor learners even though many such learners are very intelligent; who have also mastered other subjects.  Over time these same learners may even come to resent the teacher in the example of Sunakkhatta, a former personal attendant of the Buddha who became dissatisfied with the Buddha because he did not perform any mystic, superhuman wonders.

A student who is a good Zen learner cannot have their mind focused on material things believing that the goal of Zen is intended to lead to material benefits or will equip them to relax in a world of stress and confusion.  Zen has no connection with such things.  What Zen aims at is much more than that which is why being a proper learner is so important.

Don’t be surprised if you happen to be a beginner, that you will have to, at first, learn to unlearn!  Zen is not like going to college.  What you have learned which is part of your culture has a built in bias towards Zen’s real aim.

If I tell a beginner that Zen is all about coming into direct contact with the vital principle that animates his or her body of birth how do you think this person is going to react to me given modernity’s contempt for the mystical?  The beginner is going to look at me, not in wonderment, but as if I were stark raving mad!  So why would I waste my time with such a person?

 

 

 

 

First get over the five hindrancs

From the old Pali canon we learn that before the adept dwells in the four dhyānas or in Japanese zen-na he or she must cleanse their mind of the five hindrances consisting of:

1. Sensory desire, that is, the seeking of happiness through the five senses of sight, sound, smell, taste and physical feeling.

2. Ill-will, that is, all kinds of thought related to rejecting, hostility, resentment, anger and bitterness.

3. Sloth-torpor, that is, heaviness of body and dullness of mind which drag one down into disabling inertia and thick depression.

4. Restlessness-worry, that is, the inability to calm the mind.

5. Doubt, that is, lack of conviction or trust.

After the adept’s mind has been sufficiently cleansed, the adept then enters and dwells in the four dhyānas:

“And when he knows that these five hindrances have left him, gladness arises in him, from gladness comes delight, from the delight in his mind his body is tranquillised, with a tranquil body he feels joy, and with joy his mind is concentrated. Being thus detached from sense-desires, detached from unwholesome states, he enters and remains in the first dhyāna, which is with thinking and pondering, born of detachment, filled with delight and joy. And with this delight and joy born of detachment, he so suffuses, drenches, fills and irradiates his body that there is no spot in his entire body that is untouched by this delight and joy born of detachment” (D. i. 73).

“Again, a monk, with the subsiding of thinking and pondering, by gaining inner tranquillity and oneness of mind, enters and remains in the second dhyāna, which is without thinking and pondering, born of concentration, filled with delight and joy. And with this delight and joy born of concentration he so suffuses his body that no spot remains un- touched” (D. i. 73).

“Again, a monk with the fading away of delight remains imperturbable, mindful and clearly aware, and experiences in himself that joy of which the Noble Ones say: "Happy is he who dwells with equanimity and mindfulness", and he enters and remains in the third dhyāna. And with this joy devoid of delight he so suffuses his body that no spot remains untouched” (D. i. 75).

“Again, a monk, having given up pleasure and pain, and with the disappearance of former gladness and sadness, enters and remains in the fourth dhyāna which is beyond pleasure and pain, and purified by equanimity and mindfulness. And he sits suffusing his body with that mental purity and clarification so that no part of his body is untouched by it.

Just as if a man were to sit wrapped from head to foot in a white cloth, so that no part of his body was untouched by the white cloth, the pure Mind suffuses every part of his whole body. This is the fruit of the homeless life, more excellent and perfect than the former ones” (D. i. 75, 76).

There is no reason or rule to suggest that after the five hindrances have left the adept that he or she cannot go through the dhyānas in a time of a finger snap in which the pure Mind is, suddenly, realized suffusing every part of the adept’s whole body.  This is a pretty accurate picture of what happened to me in 1969.  The pure Mind does, in fact, suffuse the entire body, even one’s thoughts! 

All ancient religions

The ultimate goal of all ancient religions concerned man’s awakening to what precisely animated his corporeal body, considered as spiritual light, which had, on account of his ignorance of it, become incorporated or rather combined with flesh.

Man’s senses, as a result, went only as far as seeing the corporeal world and other corporeal beings which came in many different forms.  His own body was that of an animal into which he found himself trapped since birth, unable to escape from this horrific bondage which was always more or less painful. 

Mankind’s world is thus one of spiritual darkness, a world bereft of divine animative power which was innately present within him but, nevertheless, remained ever hidden and ungraspable by his senses.

He could find no way to the other side of this darkness being, it seems, always penned in by his animal-like existence and the demands this body placed upon him in the way of thirst, hunger and lust.  It was only the awakened, i.e., the Buddha, the rishi-bull (Vimanavatthu 16) who found the hidden animative light (rishi in Pali is īsi, the seer, who goes beyond the mundane world).

There were few rishis in the world like the Buddha but sufficient numbers, nevertheless, to teach people how to look within by means of meditation and find this animative light.  This is not to say that everyone who studied the teachings of the Buddha were convinced that he found the way to the other side of this darkness—many were not persuaded.

Gradually, over time religion turned into something it was not meant to be.  It became literal and external.  It had lost the inner path and created in its stead an outer path made for the senses and imagination.  But this outer path could only deceive and so true religion fell back into the very darkness it endeavored to escape from.