The Zennist

An eagerness or desire for something

In Buddhism, Sanskrit tṛṣṇā (generally translated with thirst or craving) is also close to the notion of avidity this being an eagerness or desire for something such as wealth or worldly enjoyments. In the case of Buddhism, it is tṛṣṇā for becoming and non-becoming (P., bhavābhavā) that always leads to rebirth which has to be overcome. 

Our tṛṣṇā for the joys obtained through the psychophysical body get us bound down to becoming and non-becoming.  Ironically, it is the memory of previous, personal hardship and pain that makes us think twice before we embark on some new enterprise.  In other words, our psychophysical body has decisive limitations of which we must be aware, if we hope to survive.  In the final analysis, it is not a pleasure vehicle.  Our continual tṛṣṇā/avidity for its life remains for us a huge problem.  

At the end of its cycle, the psychophysical body brings us nothing but sorrow—still we would want to do it all over again. But the greatest of fools are those who bet on the belief that the death of the psychophysical body brings with it final non-existence; that there will be no more rebirth.  This is tṛṣṇā for annihilation or abhava.  But because consciousness or vijñāna does not die, life continues and with it ignorance and karma.  In other words, we find our self bearing another psychophysical body after we die. 

Vijñāna, which is the transmigrant in Buddhism, is not fundamental, but something akin to the dividing of the most fundamental into two parts.  For the one who is perfectly awakened (become Buddha) the illusion of the primacy of vijñāna is gone, replaced by the One Mind.  The world (loka) is revealed to be an illusory configuration of the original Mind.  What was once real is now seen to be unreal while true reality is eternal and undying.  Rebirth is always based on tṛṣṇā for the unreal which is all, sadly, the unawakened see.

Koans are made from this one interpretation

In this postmodern era, it almost seems like there are an infinite number of ways to interpret or represent any set of data or text, for example, a poem or a novel like Joyce’s Finnegans Wake. Yet, in truth, there are only a small number of consistent and viable interpretations available to us.

With regard to koans there is only one interpretation allowed; not many as some are inclined to believe.  As strange as this sounds to postmodern ears, all koans are made from this one interpretation.

As we might expect, the more snotty and less spiritual, who have found themselves in discussions about Zen koans on Reddit and elsewhere might throw this back at me saying, “Oh we know what this one interpretation is. It’s your interpretation!”  But such people are already self-blinkered such that they know little about Zen on its own terms both historically and as it pertains to Buddhism.  They refuse to see Zen as a “school of enlightenment born from the mystical stream in Buddhism” (Heinrich Dumoulin).

I have found no evidence and not even good persuasive arguments that koans allow multiple interpretations.  What I have found is that the koan is meant to instantiate a barrier to the intellect which never fails to treat the koan as if it were an intellectual puzzle.  By acting as a barrier, what is allowed to pass though the koan is what is most fundamental, viz., our true nature—and there is only one such nature.

Looking at the mechanics of the koan, as I stated earlier, each koan is built upon a single interpretation which is kensho so that the only possible right answer is kensho, that is, seeing our true nature.  Each koan can be thought of as a door, sometimes small or large and beautiful.  But there is only one master key for all these different and unusual doors: one key that opens all the doors to the same mysterious light.

Getting beyond personality: the transpersonal

Certainly, Buddhism teaches that human beings have the potential to realize their fundamental, spiritual nature; which can subsequently be utilized to bring the light of this spiritual nature to those living in spiritual darkness (e.g., fear of death).  In addition, we can regard such a realization as not excluding the general life-world, i.e., nature.  Nor does it come from abstract thinking or come from a messenger of God.  

Still, we need to keep in mind that man’s spirituality is not found in the mundane; only to be fulfilled at the altar of Darwinian fitness.  Rather, it lies in the world of the transpersonal (Überpersonlicht), a word used by C.G. Jung in 1929, meaning higher or beyond personality (for us Buddhists this means beyond the five skandhas where lies our true nature or self).

We might imagine our ordinary personality to be always wrapped up in a kind of biological cocoon, identifying with it, believing “this biological cocoon is mine”, “I am this biological cocoon”, “this biological cocoon is my true nature.” 

For us spirits situated in this finitude, the transpersonal represents a kind of challenge if not a metamorphosis into the creature who we are meant to be, but still fear to become.  Accordingly, our karma represents the measure of whether we rise or fall; whether we advance from ape to Übermensch or in Nietzsche’s words become “more of an ape than any of the apes.”

The tendency today is to avoid the transpersonal or misunderstand it, giving it over to loose thinking (e.g., postmodernism) which then morphs into another variety of Marxism with it zero sum game in which narratives grow, each of which becomes a rationale for violence leading, eventually, to a back and forth between revolution and counterrevolution—which is where we are right now.

 

 

Don't be afraid of jargon

Those new to Zen usually are uncomfortable with non-English words they often encounter which, to be honest, amount to jargon, but necessary jargon in the sense of special words used by Buddhists, over a long period of time, which amount to a kind of shorthand. 

One example, rather than keep having to define “dharma” (in Pali dhamma) in English as it appears in a particular context which can have up to six different definitions, dharma stands for all six.  This means the reader has to be familiar with the term’s different meanings and the context in which it appears, after which dharma becomes useful jargon. 

When we read the Buddha saying, “He who sees Dharma, Vakkali, sees me; he who sees me sees Dharma,” this Dharma of which the Buddha speaks is not a ‘thing’ or ‘teaching’ or ‘good conduct’ but, instead, the supreme truth realized by the Bodhisattva whereby he became a Buddha (i.e., awakened to the unconditioned).

In some cases the Sanskrit word takes over and becomes part of the English lexicon in the examples of atman, nirvana, samsara, dharma, and karma.  When I post a passage from the Pali Nikayas, sometimes I will use atman instead of the word ‘self’ because atman is richer in meaning which also has a history older than Buddhism of referring to the vital animative principle of sentient beings.  When the Buddha teaches, for example, that “physical form (i.e., matter) is not the atman” he really means to say that the vital principle that animates us is not something physical.  The whole point of Buddhism is simply to awaken to this vital principle which is most primordial and unconditioned.  At the same time, the Buddha doesn’t want us to mistake the physical for the atman, the physical being murderous (S. iii. 114).

My advise to those who can’t tolerate learning some jargon, either Sanskrit words, Pali, Chinese or Japanese is your not ready to learn.  In other words, you’re really not ready to learn Zen.  On the same score, to imagine that Zen can be easily explained to the liking and disposition of the inquirer is to underestimate the difficulty of intuiting what is most primordial within us—becoming a Buddha.

 

A real master of Zen

To attain buddhatā (the state of awakening by which one becomes “Buddha”) the Zen adept must strive to see their self-nature (svabhāva).  This is really the Buddha—not some old guy in yellow robes holding a begging bowl. 

Without this accomplishment, no matter how much one does zazen, recites mantras, studies koans or studies the 12 sections of the discourses and follows the precepts, they will always be far away from buddhatā — they will never be awakened. 

But you must meet the Buddha (i.e., attain buddhatā ), face to face, to be called a real master of Zen.  Only the Buddha can recognize and validate your enlightenment which really means that buddhatā is self-validating—not some old Zen master who pours out fox spittle to his dull witted bald headed students who are thinking about their next meal. 

Make no mistake, buddhatā is a real experience.  Without insight into self-nature, which is most fundamental, the Buddha does not appear. You will not be anointed.  As long as the Zen adept clings to outward appearances pretending to be a Buddha (which he or she is not) not only will they delude others but they will delude themselves.