The Zennist

On becoming incarnated

Rebirth occurs when our consciousness (vijñāna) attaches/interfaces with the fertilized egg (nāmarūpa) so that a zygote is formed which is under the process of rapid cell division.  During this process of division consciousness becomes more and more embodied or incarnated.  After birth it is impossible to tell that our consciousness is prior to this physical form of ours with its eventual 37.2 trillion cells, all of which are interconnected through consciousness.

Our body has become us and we are this body or so it would seem.  Still, we have to remember the importance of how we got into this situation in the first place.  Consciousness attached to, and thus interfaced with the fertilized egg and its ongoing division.  The fact of this interfacing is of crucial importance in the enlightenment/liberation process.  Enlightenment is a sharp—but brief—clean break from our attachment to the body’s 37.2 trillion cells!

This sudden break for us consisted in overcoming consciousness; its implicit doubleness (dvaya) by which this illusory world is exhibited which appears real to us.  This may explain why in the Lankavatara Sutra the Buddha says: I enter into nirvana when the vijñāna which is caused by discrimination ceases. 

Only with the sudden realization of tathāgarbha which is single, not double; which is often equated with buddhadhātu (the element of awakening), does such discrimination cease.  As I have pointed out before in other blogs, when the pure subject meets the pure object only then does the dual nature of vijñāna come to an end but only long enough to merge with the buddhadhātu or tathāgarbha.  As a result, spirit is beheld which is absolutely universal and non-dual (advaya).  All illusion falls within it, even vijñāna together with its phenomena.  This was not so before our enlightenment.  What has been primordially hidden because of consciousness is now revealed.

Do not enter with a closed mind

When entering, so to speak, the temple of Buddhism, and I include Zen which is the means to the Buddha's awakening—beginners, almost always step over the threshold retaining their own beliefs and assumptions about Buddhism which they have gathered in the darkness of their ignorance (avidya). 

This can only mean that they enter with a closed mind incapable of recognizing spirit.  As to the time it will take for them to open their mind by throwing away their assumptions will be the measure of the  personal challenge that faces them with regard to Buddhism—a challenge that they might never overcome.

They will face this challenge in a variety of ways none of which will suffice to give them the open mind they require to intuit the mysterious, spiritual Dharma.  In the end, they will interpret Buddhism in conformity with their long held assumptions without ever shedding any of them.  And if they become teachers will only manage to teach a profane creed, essentially, lying to their students.

In light of this, the huge majority who come to Buddhism will never take up self-purification, fully, which is more about renunciation of all profane assumptions.  Instead, they will continue on a path of spiritual blindness (avidya) hoping for some kind of miracle to relive them of their abysmal ignorance — which never comes.

Making matters even worse are the teachings of those who take pride in external practices while wearing robes, all which serve to hide their lack of direct insight into spirit.  They even fail to see the Buddha as just a personification of spirit which Siddhartha awakened to after many years of searching for it.  What is important in the message of Siddhartha before he became awakened or a Buddha was his ability to not only master profound states of consciousness but also to detect and sense their inadequacy as regards his intrinsic awareness or smṛti which, by the way, is a special Buddhist term almost impossible to translate into English.

Putting aside our own devising beaten out by reasoning

The Buddha’s enlightenment was not born from his own reason, that is, personal authenticity.  Nor was it born from metaphysical solipsism this being akin to the Cartesian ‘cogito ergo sum’— the authority and privilege of the private self: a reason of one’s own.

For starters the Buddha’s enlightenment has nothing to do with reasons or reasoning.  We see it here where the Buddha sends out a warning.

Whoever, Sariputta, knowing me thus, seeing me thus, should say: ‘The recluse Gotama has no conditions of further-men, (no) excellent knowledge and insight befitting the ariyans; the recluse Gotama teaches dhamma on (a system of) his own devising beaten out by reasoning and based on investigation;’ if he, Sariputta, does not retract that speech, if he does not retract that thought, if he does not give up that view, he is verily consigned to Niraya Hell just as a burden is set aside (MN I.77).

But all who come to Buddhism come with a reason of their own: a particular and unique ground of explanations including even logical defenses which will not easily budge.  Is this the mindset that will take the adept to the summit of enlightenment or Zen’s kenshō?  No.  It will fail.  But who can help us to see this?  Is it a popular Lama or some Zen master in Japan or Korea?

If our clothes are dirty we wash them until they are clean.  But what of our unclean, persistent and stubborn reasoning that lies at the back of our reading of the Buddha’s teaching or Zen master Hunagbo’s teaching, for example?  We are, in a way, asking the teacher to clean us up!  But that will not work when one takes up Buddhism’s spiritual journey.  Yet, ironically, we have everything we need to realize what Siddhartha did, this being our innate Buddha-nature which lies hidden from us by our misplaced desires.

At this point we are either refusing to use what we, innately, already have or we don’t know how to use it — maybe both!  Surely, we don’t expect our own devising beaten out by reasoning to be the message of the Buddha.  Yet, I have met Buddhists over the years whose practice is their own devising; who reason quite well; who say nothing meaningful or profound yet defend this as Buddhism.

Gaining power over illusion

The one (P., ekattatā; S., ekatva) makes a demonstration of itself through consciousness (vijñāna), in which consciousness being binary (i.e., subject and object or for you computer nerds, 0 and 1) creates the illusion of multiplicity implying diversity, that is, infinite variation.  Consciousness, in other words, is the one's difference from itself but a difference that is illusory.

This means that our human world including our human body with its brain originate from consciousness which is, itself, an illusory bifurcation of the original one.  What is real is only the one; what is illusory is always samsaric consciousness which the Buddha likens to a magical illusion.

This magical illusion we see as our body and its world, in other words, depends upon consciousness but never reveals the actual one.  The one is always hidden by the illusion.  On the other hand, the perfect convergence of the two sides of binary/samsaric consciousness creates an automatic return to the one. This is absolute consciousness.

Where consciousness is invisible (anidassanaṃ), eternal, luminous all around,
That's where earth, water, fire, and air do not exist.
Here long and short, fine and coarse, beautiful and ugly,
This is where name and form cease
With nothing remaining.
With the transcendence of [samsaric] consciousness all this is ended. (DN I.233)

Binary consciousness or the same, samsaric consciousness, which is the fifth aggregate or skandha, conceals its source and root which is non-binary.  Thus, it seems that consciousness is the instrument of its own oppression and liberation.  By craving its illusions it oppresses itself so as to be always in a state of rebirth and duhkha.  It has only two options (which means that we, as humans, have only two options).  Consciousness can either keep falling prey to the illusion of multiplicity (i.e., samsara) or see through it by converging with the original one (overcoming consciousness’ binary nature) such that the adept gains power over illusion.

Learning not to be impulsive is what Buddhism can teach

A general working idea of impulsivity has to do with non-hesitation, including non-judgment, previous to an action being carried out.  In this regard, this would include impulsive speaking, i.e., speaking carelessly or non-empathically in a situation where empathy is called for.  Also included is risk-taking behaviors.  Add to this, failing to plan, that is, just going on a whim, and being too anxious or restless much of the time.

For a Buddhist this kind of behavior which concerns degrees of non-hesitation, has to be acknowledged.  It can easily get one into trouble when looking at one kind of impulsiveness such as risk-taking behavior during sexual intercourse in which the will cannot overcome stimulation.  There are many other examples from picking up a pistol, carelessly, to driving too fast or drinking too much with friends.  These examples show a minimum of hesitation but also a careless and inattentive attitude.  It can also lead to malice aforethought, that is, committing an unlawful act without just cause or provocation.

We have to constantly check ourselves in Buddhism to make sure we are not getting into the territory of impulsivity which can come in a variety of ways some of which we might not be aware of.

I know, personally, that the time I spent in solitude many years ago helped me to become much less impulsive which is a must for anyone seeking kenshō or the same, satori.  I took delight in sawing firewood, going to the spring house for a bucket of water and even rolling a cigarette.  Staying away from the madding crowd helped, immensely, many of whom were impulsive!

Learning not to be impulsive is what Buddhism can teach and teach it well especially through seated meditation which helps the adept to de-condition their impulsive nature.  We also learn to keep checking our self for signs of impulsivity.

To be less attached

Attachment or clinging to what is conditioned and therefore unreal is more or less painful.  It is like grabbing hold of a hot object and getting badly burned rather than just lightly touching it.  The more we attach and cling to our body and the world it participates in the deeper we burn ourselves.

Should we consider detaching from our normal tendency to grab hold of our conditioned body, so as not to become so involved with its senses and basically all that comprises the manas (mental activity in its widest sense) — Yes!  But how do we do this detaching?  This is not an easy question to answer.

In was in the late 70s and I was carrying water in two buckets back from the spring house up to the ranch house.  Before that, I had been doing a lot of meditation in the adit and walking several miles a day.  As I was walking back to the ranch house, for about twenty feet, I was neither in my body nor out of it so as to look down upon it.  In other words, I was not completely out of my body like an OBE nor completely in in my body the way I usually was.  I was in the middle, so to speak, just enough to do any task I wanted to like carrying water.

What if our attachment to the body is really a kind of over-attachment and all that such a condition implies?  What if normal were, actually, to be like I was during those twenty feet in a kind of equilibrium in which my body had lost, for a small moment of time, its seeming importance enough to make me stop over-attaching to it?

For many years I had pondered this experience then recently related it to attachment; of being overly attached and what that means.  But to the question, how do we do this detaching so as to be less attached.  I have no answer — not yet.

Taking vows to Māra the Buddhist devil

If all we’ve managed to do in our brief life upon the earth is to lie and deceive ourselves, including others, how can our lives, eventually, not end up sad and unfulfilled? 

Of course, the biggest personal lie is to believe that we have not lied and deceived ourselves; that we are basically honest and wouldn’t hurt a fly!

But if we cling to the five aggregates of physical form, feelings, perception, volitional formations (or choices) and, lastly, consciousness, all of which are the bait of Māra who is the Buddhist devil, how does this indubitable fact not make us deceivers and liars?  Of course, to protect our fragile ego from this horrible verdict we deploy what is called “motivated reasoning” to prove that we are, underneath, basically honest and good.  But hardly anyone is free from this bias.  

Taking ourselves to a good teacher of Buddhism or a Zen master who knows their stuff, these teachers know that we are, profoundly, corrupt; that we do not even realize this despite evidence to the contrary.  Teaching us, therefore, would be a waste of time without first getting us to see, for ourselves, what we really are, namely, liars and deceivers—bound to Māra.  Didn’t the Buddha say to the monks that by clinging to the five aggregates one is bound by Māra (SN 22:63)?  The purpose of monastic training, in one respect, is to first learn not to lie and deceive ourselves; to unbind ourselves from Māra.

Does this sound harsh and unfair?  Well it’s not when what is at stake for us is either a downward sloping next rebirth or one much higher that will afford us badly needed wisdom about how the universe really works and what it is in essence.  What this further implies, is that we are in no position to evaluate ourselves since we are bound down to these five aggregates; in fact, our entire social order rests upon them—not upon the truth.  Thus far, we have only taken vows to Māra!

Does Zen meditation rely on auto-suggestion?

How much of Zen master Dōgen’s zazen relies on a special kind of auto-suggestion, the kind developed by Emile Coué ( 1857-1926) and others?

For Dōgen, Buddhism, that is, the Buddha’s enlightenment, relies on zazen.  It does not transcend zazen.  Dõgen believed that the Buddha transmitted zazen.  What is passed on from person to person then is no other than just sitting or, in other words, the transmission of sitting Buddha.  Zazen and the state of being a Buddha (S., buddhatā) are the same.

But this is all Dōgen’s own interpretation.  It is not even exegesis but much more eisegesis where Dōgen reads into Buddhism his own ideas.  Not any of it can be found in the oldest discourses of the Buddha or even in the later Mahayana canon. 

Zen as the practice of jhāna (Pali) and dhyāna (Sanskrit) only makes awakening to the unconditioned more likely.  The odds are in one’s favor so to speak.  Zen is thus limited and conditioned.  Zen is only a practice of de-conditioning, to the point where direct gnosis can take place within us, this being religious intuition or kenshō.

Turning to auto-suggestion, all of it is the work, mainly, of our imagination, not so much the will which imagination easily dominates.  According to Emile Coué auto-suggestion relies, first of all, on imagination and, secondly, the results to be expected which fall within physical possibility.  Thus, according to Coué one is the slave of suggestion and if we don’t take command of it, we then become the victim of it.  Our conscious mind is thus limited and in a dangerous position.  What lies below it is larger and more powerful. 

Look at the power of a frenzied mob where imagination and physical aggression link.  Think about the seductive power of pornography, or a harlequin romance novel.  Both rely on the link between our imagination and the sexuality of our physical bodies.  Or just imagine sucking on a lemon.  Your mouth will almost instantly start to water.

People are drawn to zazen because they imagine it will help them with life’s problems — and they are Buddhas when they physically meditate according to Dōgen!  They expect the positive to happen to them, and will tell you so after they do zazen for twenty or forty minutes.  But this is just auto-suggestion.  It can become a very powerful form of it also.

Real Zen meditation—not Dōgen’s—involves a process of deconditioning us from bodily enchantment and attachment; seeing the body as a mere lump of foam (pheṇapiṇḍa).  In light of this, sitting with our body ramrod straight on a zafu doesn’t make us a Buddha.  Becoming a Buddha is about seeing our true nature or kenshō.  What really counts is our detachment from our body; not being over-involved with it.  This means also being dispassionate towards its pleasurable and painful feelings.

More about anitya or change

Anitya in Buddhism refers to impermanence or change.  The word “change” in English simply means to make different.  The Greek philosopher Heraclitus argued that everything in the universe changes.  This relates somewhat to Buddhism but not entirely.  For a Buddhist, everything is anitya but with the proviso that only what is composed or conditioned is anitya.  The unconditioned does not change, in other words. 

Logically, this means that change is relative to the unchanging or nitya.  This further means that it is by the unchanging that we come to know the changing or anitya including its limitations, for example, anitya had no effect on nirvana. 

Turning to Zen, we could even say that whereas our thoughts are always changing the essence or substance of thought is nitya — it does not change.  This is like the ocean with its ever changing waves and wave patterns—but it’s all H2O which doesn’t change otherwise water would not be water as we know it.

If, like the Buddha, we awakened to the absolute declaring, “This universe is an illusory appearance, being only thought,” we have verified this from the standpoint of having personally realized nitya, this being the same essence or substance that makes up thought.  We are not guessing but see everything, including our thoughts, as compositions of absolute essence.  A truly marvelous unified field theory you could say!

Western science has not the slightest idea what the essence of the universe is, and certainly no idea what thoughts are made of.  Their world is bound to spacetime.  That’s it.  It is a world that is limited to the senses and mind/thought (manas). 

Some scientists are also like wardens who take enormous pride in studying and understanding the sensory prison, but also making it more secure.  But the wardens are also in the same prison as the prisoners.  Neither can escape in which even death is not an escape.

For those like the Buddhas who have escaped from the prison by intuiting the essence  of thought; looking back, it turned out to be an illusory prison, a composition of essence or tathatā which is nitya and everlasting.

Siddhartha's quest for true identity versus Identity v. role confusion

A book some of us found helpful during the 1960s, during the formation of our social and personal identities was Hermann Hesse’s novel, Siddhartha.  Like Siddhartha we wanted to solve the riddle of self, that is, “Who am I, intrinsically?” the answer of which might help us to realize who we actually are and aid us, positively, throughout our adult life with its many changes, eventually, facing our death in some hospital bed or in a chair.

The who-am-I-intrinsically question, is about identity formation—finding out who we truly are; having looked deeper within, going beyond ordinary personal identity. 

I can remember as a teenager going through high school with identity formation at the back of my mind.  I came to learn much later that it was the psychoanalytic writer Erik H. Erikson who seriously delved into the subject of identity formation during adolescence where we stand between childhood and adulthood.  Biologically, we change and become sexual entering into the world of Darwinian fitness with all its responsibilities, but we also come to have an intellectual process which can be productive or counterproductive.  We realize, in addition, that in a very short period of time we have to meet societal expectations displaying adult behavior.  This period of tremendous change was Erikson’s fifth stage, Identity vs. Role Confusion (ages 12 to 20).

A lot has been said about this stage.  It has also been used as a launching point for “identity politics” adding more confusion to Erikson’s thought—even altering its context, dramatically. 

But going back to Hesse’s novel and with it also Buddhism, both Siddhartha’s were in a quest for true identity which is beyond doctrines and teachings, none of which contains the direct mystical experience of enlightenment.  Minus this kind of identity, we are left with a life of role confusion which is an insecure, somewhat unstable identity.  It might consist of confusion as to sexual orientation or reliance on various kinds of political/ideological oriented groups or even reliance on religious groups which.  All this leaves behind a path of personal discovery seeking authentic identity which concerned both Siddharthas.

For Buddhism, the matter of identity goes much deeper than anything in Erikson’s world of thought.  I tend to think that Identity vs. Role Confusion is an ever present burden that many in later years still carry in which it is difficult to distinguish between identity and role. The latter is more of a persona, i.e., a kind of social mask that the wearer projects and may even forget to take off after many years.

For those in the ages between 12 to 20, reading Hesse’s novel, Siddhartha, is not a bad idea.  But no book or teaching contains the secret of Zen which Siddhartha experienced under the Bodhi Tree.