The Zennist

Neither views nor theories can be my true self

Beginners who are new to Buddhism most always, without exception, assume the Buddha denied a self or atman—something that is spiritually absolute.  Where they get this crazy idea from is beyond me.  What they manage to cite as their proof for no-self is equally bizarre.  Take this one, for example.

“Is there any view of self in which you can take refuge that will not cause anxiety, exhaustion, sorrow, suffering, and despair?”

“No, reverend teacher.”

“Bhikshus, you are quite correct. Whenever there is an idea of self, there is also an idea of what belongs to the self. When there is no idea of self, there is no idea of anything that belongs to the self. Self and what belongs to the self are two views that are based on trying to grasp things that cannot be grasped and to establish things that cannot be established.”

This next passage sheds more light on the above passage.  It is certainly not a denial of self—only a denial of views of self.  It is certainly correct to say that various views and theories of self will lead one astray.  In fact, a view of self cannot be my true self. Notice the via negativa at play here (emphasis is mine).

“Those various views [diṭṭhi], Cunda, that arise in the world and are connected with theories of the self (attavāda) or with theories of the world [lokavāda]—wherever these views arise and wherever they obsess (the mind) and wherever they are current, it is by seeing them with perfect wisdom as they really are, thus: ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self’ [netaṃ mama, nesohamasmi, na me so attā’ti], that there is ejection of these views, that there is renunciation of these views” (MN I.40).

Neither views, ideas, nor theories can be my true self.  A view of self is little more than a concept or a mental image of the real self just like the concept of a million dollars or the image of money in my mind is not real insofar as it cannot buy anything.

When the Buddha tells us to dwell with the self as an island (attadīpā) with the self as refuge (SN III.42), this is not the self as a view or a theory.  It is the self or atman as absolute and unconditioned.  It is the most primary that none precedes.  For nothing can exist before it.  Neither has it any deficiencies, hence, it cannot be perfected.

Turning to Zen, it is mainly directed to the intuition of self or the same Mind which is not to be confused with thought or the manas.  Isn’t it odd that in the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra we find the following: “All beings possess a Buddha Nature: this is what the atman is”?  But wouldn’t any view or theory of Buddha Nature also be wrong, as wrong as any view or theory of atman? Yes it would.

The conversion of the religious into the secular world

The Buddha's discourses give us mainly religious information.  That is their one notable feature.  The Buddha's discourses were never intended to provide us with accurate, verifiable historical information.  That Siddhartha awakened becoming a Buddha is, strictly, a religious claim that cannot be historically proven (keep in mind that 'religious' means  relating to that which is acknowledged as ultimate reality). 

Said again, a person who studies Buddhist history has no access to Siddhartha’s nirvana.  It should be obvious that history cannot describe the content of Siddhartha’s enlightenment whereby he became a Buddha. 

On the other hand, a person who studies the religious information set forth in the Buddhist canon is more likely to become convinced that Siddhartha awakened to the unconditioned-element (asaṅkhata-dhātu) as might others who follow Buddhism’s religious path.

Several days ago, I asked myself where, exactly, does secular Buddhism fit in with this?  It doesn’t seem all that religious to me.  If anything, it is the gradual conversion of the religious realm into the secular world. 

Next, there is no secular Buddhism embedded somewhere in the Buddhist canon.  All of Buddhism rests upon the awakening of Siddhartha.  But we know from the cannon that the Buddha made a distinction between secular people, namely, puthujjanas, meaning, the worldly, and his disciples, looking down on the former.

Then it dawned on me how might secular Buddhism work.  I came up with this: use the historical to undermine the religious.  As mentioned earlier, history has no access to Siddhartha’s nirvana.  How might a historical-critical perspective even engage with nirvana itself?

Nirvana, to be sure, is a transcendent experience which is wholly religious and personal (S., pratyātman).  History has no means by which to enter it as mentioned earlier.  But for the secular Buddhist, if Buddhism can be historicized, that is, made dependent on history as a basis of explaining Buddhism, then it logically has no need of the strictly religious for explaining Buddhism.

Laying this aside for a moment, Christianity succeeded to some degree in making Christianity seem dependent on history.  A historical record became the support for one’s faith even with the resurrection.  Hence, the New Testament has to be taken literally and less spiritually (i.e., gnostic).

But Buddhism does not go here since it rests pretty much upon a religious framework.  Buddhism’s history is better understood in a mythological light.  Mythology is the use of language to explain an inexplicable spiritual world, that is, a world that cannot be accessed by the senses but, nevertheless, is real lending itself to metaphorical language; the uplifting of our mind to spiritual things.  In the words of J.R.R. Tolkien “myths are largely made of ‘truth’.”  In other words, myths must rest upon a religious foundation.

But let us not forget, that the secular wants none of this!  The senses cannot go here much less even the emotions but still mythology has a great impact upon the human spirit.  Just look at J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and the three films Peter Jackson directed which gave us a cinematic glimpse into Lord of the Rings.  Even the earlier Star Wars films contained some mythology which the fans loved (the last three Star Wars films have been, largely, an attempt to destroy the mythological content, reducing Star Wars to a feminist narrative).  Mythology becomes successful when its foundation becomes largely truth in the example of the film, Matrix (1999) which appears to have a gnostic theogony behind it (I wonder of the Wachowskis read The Apocryphon of John?).

 

 

Only the conditioned undergoes duḥkha (uneasy, difficult, stressful, painful)

The unconditioned is free from duḥkha (uneasy, difficult, stressful, painful).  It is independent of relations of causal conditioning.  But now we need to ask ourselves what undergoes duḥkha?

Logically, it has to be the conditioned which undergoes duḥkha. This means an arising is to be seen, a vanishing is to be seen, and its alteration while it persists is also to be seen.

But the sad fact for us right now, the conditioned is us!  That means this corporeal body which we inhabit and cling to is conditioned. In other words, the five grasping aggregates (P., pañcupādānakkhandhā) which I hasten to add are not our true self.

Our birth was duḥkha.  Our aging is duḥkha and in the future, our death will be duḥkha.  But we can also say that clinging to the conditioned is also the cause of unceasing rebirth and with each rebirth, more duḥkha awaits us.  We never manage to escape rebirth because we never escape the conditioned which can only be accomplished by attaining nirvana (this being always unconditioned).

Also important, the conditioned is the first noble truth of duḥkha; while our clinging to the conditioned is the origin of our duḥkha.  To end this duḥkha we must realize the unconditioned which is devoid of the conditioned.  In Zen is this no-thought —thought always being conditioned.

The agnostic gives up every preconceived notion to reach gnosis

I would have to say that the general public don’t find much difference between an atheist and an agnostic.  They might put it this way.  An atheist is a fanatical agnostic while an agnostic is just a cowardly, wimpy atheist.  Both, we can say, are not interested in religion. 

Most people who tell us that they are atheists really mean by this, I don’t believe in the God of the Bible, who interacts with us, intervenes in the world and answers our prayers.  Please don’t impose your religion on me. 

While atheists don’t want any religion imposed on them, there is more to the agnostic position than meets the eye.  To become a sincere agnostic, a person needs to be honest and open minded and not be arrogantly confident.  Thomas H. Huxley who coined the word agnostic in 1869 said:

"Sit down before the fact as a little child, be prepared to give up every preconceived notion, follow humbly wherever and to whatever abysses nature leads, or you shall learn nothing.”

Huxley’s words are not far from Buddhism with its unique voyage of inner discovery.  Given that Buddhism is fundamentally gnostic this means that the adept has to begin by being an engaged agnostic!  It is the preconceived concepts and notions that the adept clings to that makes it impossible to reach gnosis or intuition of the absolute.  

Buddhism and its various schools has always been about having gnosis of the unknown, directly intuiting it.  One intuits what has always been unknowable and inaccessible to mentation which in Zen is called no-thought 無念.

Welcome to the bone heap world

This following discourse by the Buddha from the Itivuttaka (Iti 17) is titled, Bone Heap (Aṭṭhi-puñja).  For me, it describes our Earth as something like a massive bone orchard — no, it's not a happy discourse.  Our birth and death add up to zero which best describes saṃsāra.  But also this discourse talks about the "four noble truths" as being our hope, you could say.  But what is really being said as regards these truths?

The first noble truth is about the suffering of the five aggregates subject to clinging that make up our human life, namely, material shape, feeling, perception, choices and consciousness.  The second noble truth tells us why we suffer.  It is because of our desire and holding on to these five aggregates.  Logically, it is by the stopping or the removal of desire for these five aggregates that we are released from suffering.  But this release rests upon a special path by which we attain direct cognition or intuition of the unconditioned which is nirvana.

The Buddha is calling on us to transcend, completely, the five aggregate person which we know as our carnal body of birth.  We have over identified with it, believing it is who we are.  However, it really hides our true being or nature which is the animative principle this being the clear-light Mind which is unconditioned.  It is our unbroken desire for these aggregates that is our problem.

Sadly, nobody cares anymore about the Buddha's message and what the "four noble truths" really mean.  Materialism dominates our world.  People actually believe that when they die, that's it!  Some of these people want to practice Buddhism.  But they lack the necessary spiritual ability and may never attain nirvana in many rebirths of suffering because of their disbelief in the transcendent.

 This was said by the Lord…

“Bhikkhus, the skeletons of a single person, running on and wandering in saṃsāra for an aeon, would make a heap of bones, a quantity of bones as large as this Mount Vepulla, if there were someone to collect them and if the collection were not destroyed.”

The bones of a single person
Accumulated in a single aeon
Would make a heap like a mountain—
So said the Great Sage.

He declared it to be
As great as Mount Vepulla
To the north of Vulture’s Peak
In the hill-fort of Magadha.

But when one sees with perfect wisdom
The four noble truths as they are—
Suffering, the origin of suffering,
The overcoming of suffering,
And the noble eightfold path
Leading to relief from suffering—

Having merely run on
Seven times at the most,
By destroying all fetters
One makes an end of suffering.

 

 

The path of the hero

Buddhism is the path or mārga of the hero ([vigorous: √ 1. vī] vīra, a man of might, champion).  This path is one of seeking, a seeking that turns away from the potential riches of the external world only to proceed, inwardly, into the very heart or essence of one’s being, like Siddhartha did. 

But before we set out on the path, it is first necessary to have a heroic disposition.  What good is the hero’s path for a person who is not a hero?

Real Buddhist training first requires that we find out if we are hero material.  Not all who enter the temple’s precincts are heroic or even wish to be such since the Buddhist hero is someone who must show great courage, intuition, and faith in the Buddha’s Dharma, enough to attain enlightenment come what may.

Especially, lay Buddhists are not what could be called hero material.  They tend to be milquetoast.  Teachers will usually smile a lot and say nice things to these kinds of people—like talking to an infant.  Such people simply lack any understanding of Buddhism’s spiritual world and where Buddhism is really aiming.

There is nothing outwardly showy or discernible about someone who is hero material.  Yet, even without a teacher they find the right teachings and sense exactly when to begin their retreat proceeding inwardly.  Their effort is one that culminates in a spiritual transformation.  The hero’s inward journey has, finally, opened the heart up to this mysterious transformation.  The hero is now attuned to the spiritual world (lokuttara).    

Overcoming the sixth sense

If we make or purchase a statue of the Buddha or one of the Bodhisattvas, this leads to visual worship.  If we engage in chanting a particular Sutra or a part of a Sutra, this is auditory worship.  Engaging our senses in the practice of Buddhism can hardly be helped.  But this doesn’t make us good practitioners.  We are still caught up in the senses and their objects.  Our Buddha-nature is not to be found there. 

The most difficult sense to overcome is the sixth sense this being the manas.  Manas in the widest sense is all mental powers or mentation.  This includes the intellect, intelligence, understanding, will, imagination, and consciousness.

To Zen’s credit, it is mainly concerned with overcoming the sixth sense this being our tendency to speculate about what the Buddha taught in regard to his awakening as if to imply his realization can be known through the manas.  But it cannot be known this way, anymore than reading about climbing Qomolangma (Mount Everst) is the same as actually reaching its summit. 

Our sixth sense is capable of being the chief instrument and architect of our delusions, and  often is. 

Switching gears, dhyāna or intuition serves a special purpose in Zen.  It is the only means we have for overcoming the tremendous enchanting power of the sixth sense which makes victims of us all.

The stages of dhyāna prepare the adept for the sudden vault over the sixth sense which is Zen’s satori or kenshō.  The koans are meant to call forth intuition.  They are constructed in such a way that when the adept’s manas comes to a sudden and unexpected halt, there is satori. 

At this point, consciousness (vijñāna, subject-object knowing) is transcended.  This is also the state of Buddhahood.  Seeing true reality for the first time, there is not the slightest difference between the subject and object.  Both sides return to pure Mind or the same, the One Mind. 

The inevitability of death with no chance of rebirth?

It seems obvious to assume that death is inevitable relative to birth.  Something has to be conditioned and born for death to happen, eventually.  So let’s back up and begin with that night in the back of the SUV at the side of the road, or some hotel room during our honeymoon. 

After successful conception, an incarnating entity or gandhabha enters the mother’s womb to undergo a trimester process of bonding itself with the developing fetus (this is the activity of rudimentary desire).  In time, a newborn emerges from the birth canal of the mother and everyone lives happily ever after.  Well, not really.  Let me unpack this.

In Buddhism, the term gandhabba (S., gandharva) is used to denote a particular state of samsaric consciousness (P., viññāṇa).  Such a consciousness is a doubling of the one (eka) into subject and object knowing (P., ñāṇa) or the same, observer and observed knowing.  Because this implicit duality found in consciousness is never transcended, except in nirvana, birth and death and rebirth are, with rare exception, inevitable for humans.  Consciousness is the transmigrant from one life to the next.  It doesn’t die.  We could even call it the bad infinite.

Knowing this is important in Buddhism so as to avoid an unsatisfactory rebirth after our inevitable death. 

The sad and tragic thing about modern culture is we lead sloppy, unspiritual lives not caring about our own next life after this one in addition to rearing children in such a way that they grow up having learned maladaptive patterns of behavior which neither benefit them nor make for a good society. 

Buddhism tries to correct this as much as it can but it is undercut by the modern disposition of skepticism: the tendency to disbelieve something that doesn’t agree with one’s own personal narrative.  The only thing believed in seems to be the inevitability of death with no chance of rebirth. 

What separates Rinzai Zen from Sōtō Zen?

It almost goes without saying but the Zen koan will not yield its intended meaning, which is religious and mystical, to the intellect or to someone just sitting  (J., zazen). 

This, by the way, is what separates Rinzai Zen from Sōtō Zen.  The former rests upon intuition, the latter on sitting.  In fact Dōgen ( 1200–1253), the founder of Japanese Sōtō Zen, rejects the intuitive approach to Zen.

Frankly, I don’t find Sōtō Zen or it various notions to be all that Buddhist such as shushō ittō which means oneness of practice and realization.  Nor do I find sitting in zazen in the belief that I am already a real Buddha to be other than a form of autosuggestion.

I see the value of zazen but not for the reason that Dōgen did.  Sitting in an old abandoned copper mine (technically called an “adit”) taught me about the finitude of my carnal body of birth, especially, the five senses which are brought somewhat to a halt and controlled in meditation.  But it did not teach me about the mind or manas which includes the intellect, cognition, reasoning, and my imagination.  And this is where I think the importance of Rinzai Zen is to be found.  For it is with the overcoming of the manas, and I include consciousness (vijñāna), that enlightenment takes place in which one intuits their true nature or kenshō.

Of all the senses the sixth sense, manas, proves to be what can only be described as the barrier 關 of Zen master Mumon (1183–1260) who is famous for the work, The Gateless Barrier (J., Mumonkan) which consists of 48 koans, all of which I take to be barriers!  These barriers represent our inability to pass through the manas.  Each koan frustrates the manas and frankly drives it crazy.  Still, it can not pass through the barrier. 

To pass through Mumon’s barrier one has to intuit the very substance of thought which is the basis of the manas.  When the substance or essence of thought is intuited the key to every koan becomes obvious since the adept has transcended the manas and its world.

When this happened to me many, many years ago (I confess I am in my seventies now) I was flabbergasted to say the least.  This is not what I had expected.  Words could not describe my shock and amazement.  But no matter what koan I read there it was.  The koan was resting on kenshō.  If you lacked kenshō which is the necessary intuition, you only met Mumon’s barrier.  Do zazen all you wish.  It won't help you to answer a single koan.

Spiritually Buddhism and Christianity are not all that different

Buddhism and Christianity seem worlds apart because the average person is looking through the spectacles of their own unique experiences, presuppositions, and prejudices — not through the absolute, itself, which they have yet to realize and perhaps never will. 

Christianity, from the original Orthodox Church, to Catholicism’s break with it in 1054, to various kinds of Protestantism which were fundamental disagreements with the Catholicism, envisions the absolute (God/Theos) mainly through their imagination.  God seems to be some special kind of anthropomorphized entity that dispenses justice and answers human prayers. 

Buddhism, by comparison, seems to regard the absolute as some kind of non-entity or just sheer absence; even a Void. 

I must say that both views are, to be honest, not well developed and immature.  It should also be said that both religions are famous for what their founders did not teach.

The truth of Christianity is that God is synonymous with Spirit (Jn 4:24) and certainly nothing beyond it like a creator of Spirit.  Spirit, in other words, is absolute which refers to an immaterial nature.  Turning to Buddhism, Buddhism is not all that different.  The Buddha-dhātu or Buddha-nature is ātman according to the Mahaparinirvana Sutra.  Ātman can mean essence or soul which is synonymous with Spirit.  It is totally immaterial.  It can only be personally realized by seeing that all conditioned things are anātman (i.e., not the ātman).  

For a true Christian and a true Buddhist to reach the transcendent/absolute both cannot love or cling to the world of birth and death which is never other than conditioned, changing and passing away.  If anyone prefers the world over the spiritual/religious, including the things within this world, they have no nose for the Spirit or the Buddha-nature.  What they have, instead, is lust for the carnal, the visible, which also includes pride in their worldly abilities.  Such people are not spiritual by any measure but rather battle against it who are, more or less, the minions of Māra (the Buddhist devil).