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The Zen School of Buddhism likes to call itself
the 'Buddha-Heart School' because it aims to present the essence
of the Buddha's teaching of the Way to Full Awakening or Enlightenment.
Buddhism arose in India about 500 BC, at first spreading
fairly rapidly into Southeast Asia, then northward through Central
Asia into China (about 100 AD) and the Far East, and finally,
about 700-800 AD, into Tibet. Both its age and its spread make
Buddhism a well-travelled religion. In the course of its travels
it has shown that its roots can grow in any soil, provided its
spirit is replanted and not just its forms. The forms change,
and have changed, with prevailing geographical and cultural conditions
but however varied they may have become, the central theme is
of Buddhism is constant - our human problems and sufferings and
a way to transcend them. This culminates in a new way of seeing
and beholding, which is all-embracing, peaceful and compassionate,
free from fear and thus joyful.
No detailed record remains of the life of the historical
person who is referred to as the Buddha, the Awakened or Enlightened
One. However, all the different traditions are remarkably unanimous
about the main tenets of his life, which we may therefore take
as symbolic of the Way an individual has to travel to come to
the same insight. Differences in emphasis and formulations of
this Way, and variations of it, make up the various schools. Books
on them are now easily accessible, and here we need only note
that the Zen School belongs to the Northern branch of Buddhism
(Mahayana), as distinct from the Southern Branch which is prevalent
in Southeast Asia.
From its beginning 'Training in Zen' has always
been open to monks and lay people, men and women, and the texts
tell of some great lay men and women. But the places where this
training could be undergone, and where it was shown by the lives
and style of the resident community under a teacher, have always
been monastic institutions. Not necessarily because they are better,
but because they encourage cultivation and continuity, and offer
single-mindedness of purpose to those who, feeling the calling,
dedicate their lives to handing on the Buddha's message and more
importantly, the Way that leads to its realisation. No asset or
inheritance is of any real value unless it is realised and so
available for use. Doesn't that remind us of the Buddha's own
realisation on Awakening, 'How wonderful, how mysterious, all
beings are fully endowed with the Tathagata's Wisdom and Power
- but sadly, human beings, because of their attachments, are not
aware of it'.
And so, what concerns us is the Way through which
this Wisdom and Power is to be realised. We are not in Japan,
and to indulge in exotic forms and imitate cultural accretions
will only lead us astray. But it behoves us to have a good look
at what the message of the Buddha actually tells us, and why Zen
Training is as it is, and why it is effective for one who feels
impelled to undergo it and to stick it out.
The late Master Sesso of Daitokuji monastery held
up his hand, fingers outstretched, and smilingly said, 'A flower
may have many petals; none are identical but all are nourished
by the same sap that rises along the stalk. It is the same with
religions', and he ticked them off on his fingers, 'Hinduism,
Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, Islam. All differ in their formulations,
doctrines, rites, yet all express in their different forms that
same essence that informs them all. And,' he added, suddenly very
serious, 'in all of them there is a danger, greatest perhaps in
Buddhism because it has so many forms, that the essence can be
mistaken for the form it is manifested in. Each form, as with
the flower petal, if followed down leads back to the essence.
Jumping from one form to another, or comparing them, only creates
confusion.'
There is no need to elaborate on this - we know
what happens when we start comparing, vying and warring with each
other about whose way is the best. In the 'Buddha-Heart' School,
therefore, we are concerned with the essence but are aware that
it can only be realised in a form.
The Zen Way starts in the landscape of Buddhism,
and since this is very different in its outlook and basic assumptions
from our Greco-Christian landscape, our first need is to become
clear about our own assumptions. Why? Our own basic assumptions
are so obvious to us that we never question them; they are embedded
in our thought patterns and expressed in our languages. I 'have'
hands and feet, they are 'mine'. I think, 'Cogito ergo sum.' From
the creator-god the power of whose word brought the world and
all that exists into being, to such mundane occurrences as ' I
stand up', 'I think', 'I feel', etc. we are convinced that for
any action there must be a doer who instigates it.
This is the Western mode of understanding. In our
time, at the end of the twentieth century this doer 'I' with all
its concerns has become all but boundless, since we have lost
faith in, or forgotten our creator god without whose consent we
are as naught. So among many other ills, we now suffer from the
danger of becoming inflated beyond the limits of our capacity.
We need only to look at our newspapers to see how strident our
self-importance has become. No use blaming the media, it is only
reflecting ourselves.
Now let us look at the Eastern landscape and its
basic assumptions. Buddhism has grown on this soil, and so acquaintance
with this landscape is essential for the trainee. The Eastern
perspective sees no creator-god who intentionally brings the world
into being. Things and actions take place of themselves without
the need for a planner or doer. This produces a totally different
way of thinking and language pattern. In Japanese until quite
recently, (before Western influence took hold) pronouns were of
little importance and rarely used. 'I have two hands' or 'I am
angry', would be rendered just 'there are two hands', or 'there
is anger'.
Moreover and most importantly, in the East thinking
is a function of the heart rather than the head. Even more disconcertingly,
although there are specific Buddhist terms for 'consciousness'
and 'thoughts', they are used synonymously. The Easterner thinks
in/with the heart. The key Buddhist term, 'citta' (Sanskrit) or
'hsin' (Chinese)/'shin' (Japanese) cannot therefore be adequately
translated into any Western language. This key term was and often
still is translated as 'mind' but as that it masks or conceals
the connotations of feeling, emotion, passion which we naturally
associate with the heart rather than with the mind, the function
and instrument of thinking associated with the head.
Another rather misleading term is 'purity', which,
although in a way correct, for us also carries some moral overtones
such as innocence and freedom from sin, without accretion or admixtures,
like pure water. To the Buddhist, this state of purity, clean
without addition, connotes the state of Nothingness (Sunyata)
that is empty, containing nothing. A pure heart is a heart empty
of all assumptions.
The third term that we easily misconstrue is 'eternity'.
Eternity in Buddhism is not everlasting but a full, total moment
in which time may stand still or may not. This gives the clue
- eternity is not in time and has nothing to do with time. All
that can be said about it is that it is - and even that is too
much.
Many of the Buddhist basic assumptions point at
the inexpressible, which in Zen parlance, 'is not a thing, is
not a place', but rather is an experience This experience delivers
the individual, previously separate and alone, from the straight-jacket
of 'I'. Further cultivated it becomes a new attitude or state
of awareness with new perception and relatedness. Variously termed
Satori, Enlightenment, Awakening, this state lies beneath the
sense of 'I' and thus emerges of itself when 'I' is forgotten
or no longer there. As a momentary experience it arises of itself
at times when we are deeply moved, perhaps when looking at a sunset
and being 'carried out of ourselves'. Although the memory of such
a moment is apt to stay with us, the moment happens of itself
and cannot be deliberately invoked. Expectation is apt to drive
it away; setting up the same conditions will not bring it about
again; and contrary to some New Age thinking, mere wantonness
or impetuosity is equally ineffective. In short, it is an experience
of the absence of 'I' and therefore no volitional means can bring
it about; 'all deliberation misses the target'.
To conclude, although we all have had such moments
or intimations, we cannot bring about such an experience or perception
by an act of will or by an arrangement of circumstances. And as
a state or new attitude in which life is lived it does not come
about without devoted labour or practice because it involves a
radical change of heart.
Our wayward heart is wishful and capricious,
of strong wants and notions passionately held. These need to be
emptied out so that the heart can become clean again, empty -
'mushin'. It is a formidable task, demanding ruthless honesty,
much patience and determination and the courage to work with one's
foibles until they are worn away, but also good will and friendliness
towards oneself. No heroic dragon-slaying can bring that about;
rather it needs a quiet collectedness, and a patient holding out
against being swept away by our many passions.
Living traditions have two advantages. One is that they are the
outcome of centuries, even millennia, of human experience. In
their development they have dropped individual features and so
they fit all human beings. The other is safe passage. The path
that leads to true selflessness is not without its fears, and
traditions have in-built safety-nets so that the ardent practitioner
does not come to harm. Nothing in this world is completely foolproof
but mishaps are less likely if we first follow the mapped path
as far as possible - and only then, as an experienced traveller,
set out into the unknown. Finally, setting out without troubling
oneself about the preliminaries of getting ready is sure to end
in disappointment if not worse.
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