Myths To Live By Part 4

The word zen zen itself is a j.a.panese misp.r.o.nunciation of the Chinese word itself is a j.a.panese misp.r.o.nunciation of the Chinese word ch'an, ch'an, which, in turn, is a Chinese misp.r.o.nunciation of the Sanskrit which, in turn, is a Chinese misp.r.o.nunciation of the Sanskrit dhyana, dhyana, meaning "contemplation, meditation." Contemplation, however, of what? meaning "contemplation, meditation." Contemplation, however, of what?

Let us imagine ourselves for a moment in the lecture hall where I originally presented the material for this chapter. Above, we see the many lights. Each bulb is separate from the others, and we may think of them, accordingly, as separate from each other. Regarded that way, they are so many empirical facts; and the whole universe seen that way is called in j.a.panese ji hokkai, ji hokkai, "the universe of things." "the universe of things."

But now, let us consider further. Each of those separate bulbs is a vehicle of light, and the light is not many but one. The one light, that is to say, is being displayed through all those bulbs; and we may think, therefore, either of the many bulbs or of the one light. Moreover, if this or that bulb went out, it would be replaced by another and we should again have the same light. The light, which is one, appears thus through many bulbs.

a.n.a.logously, I would be looking out from the lecture platform, seeing before me all the people of my audience, and just as each bulb seen aloft is a vehicle of light, so each of us below is a vehicle of consciousness. But the important thing about a bulb is the quality of its light. Likewise, the important thing about each of us is the quality of his consciousness. And although each may tend to identify himself mainly with his separate body and its frailties, it is possible also to regard one's body as a mere vehicle of consciousness and to think then of consciousness as the one presence here made manifest through us all. These are but two ways of interpreting and experiencing the same set of present facts. One way is not truer than the other. They are just two ways of interpreting and experiencing: the first, in terms of the manifold of separate things; the second, in terms of the one thing that is made manifest through this manifold. And as, in j.a.panese, the first is known as ji hokkai, so ji hokkai, so the second is the second is ri hokkai, ri hokkai, the absolute universe. the absolute universe.

Now the consciousness of ji hokkai ji hokkai cannot help being discriminative, and, experiencing oneself that way, one is bounded, like the light of a bulb, in this fragile present body of gla.s.s; whereas in the consciousness of cannot help being discriminative, and, experiencing oneself that way, one is bounded, like the light of a bulb, in this fragile present body of gla.s.s; whereas in the consciousness of ri hokkai ri hokkai there is no such delimitation. The leading aim of all Oriental mystic teaching, consequently, might be described as that of enabling us to shift our focus of self-identification from, so to say, this light bulb to its light; from this mortal person to the consciousness of which our bodies are but the vehicles. That, in fact, is the whole sense of the famous saying of the Indian there is no such delimitation. The leading aim of all Oriental mystic teaching, consequently, might be described as that of enabling us to shift our focus of self-identification from, so to say, this light bulb to its light; from this mortal person to the consciousness of which our bodies are but the vehicles. That, in fact, is the whole sense of the famous saying of the Indian Chhandogya Upanishad, tat tvam asi, Chhandogya Upanishad, tat tvam asi, "Thou art That," "You yourself are that undifferentiated universal ground of all being, all consciousness, and all bliss." "Thou art That," "You yourself are that undifferentiated universal ground of all being, all consciousness, and all bliss."

Not, however, the "you" with which one normally identifies: the "you," that is to say, that has been named, numbered, and computerized for the tax collector. That is not not the "you" that is That, but the condition that makes you a separate bulb. the "you" that is That, but the condition that makes you a separate bulb.

It is not easy, however, to shift the accent of one's sense of being from the body to its consciousness, and from this consciousness, then, to consciousness altogether.

When I was in India I met and conversed briefly with the saintly sage Shri Atmananda Guru of Trivandrum; and the question he gave me to consider was this: Where are you between two thoughts? Where are you between two thoughts? In the In the Kena Upanishad Kena Upanishad we are told: "There the eye goes not, speech goes not, nor the mind. . . Other it is than the known. And moreover above the unknown." we are told: "There the eye goes not, speech goes not, nor the mind. . . Other it is than the known. And moreover above the unknown."1 For, on coming back from between two thoughts, one would find that all words -- which, of course, can be only of thoughts and things, names and forms -- only mislead. As again declared in the Upanishad: "We know not, we understand not, how It should be taught." For, on coming back from between two thoughts, one would find that all words -- which, of course, can be only of thoughts and things, names and forms -- only mislead. As again declared in the Upanishad: "We know not, we understand not, how It should be taught."

In fact, as I should think everyone must surely have discovered in his lifetime, it is actually impossible to communicate through speech any experience whatsoever, unless to someone who has himself enjoyed an equivalent experience of his own. Try explaining, for example, the experience of skiing down a mountain slope to a person who has never seen snow. Moreover, thoughts and definitions may annul one's own experiences even before they have been taken in: as, for instance, asking, "Can this that I feel be love?" "Is it allowed?" "Is it convenient?" Ultimately, of course, such questions may have to be asked, but the fact remains -- alas! -- that the moment they arise, spontaneity abates. Life defined is bound to the past, no longer pouring forward into future. And, predictably, anyone continually knitting his life into contexts of intention, import, and clarifications of meaning will in the end find that he has lost the sense of experiencing life.

The first and foremost aim of Zen, consequently, is to break the net of our concepts -- which is why it has been termed by some a philosophy of "no mind." A number of schools of Occidental psychological therapy hold that what we all most need and are seeking is a meaning for our lives. For some, this may be a help; but all it helps is the intellect, and when the intellect sets to work on life with its names and categories, recognitions of relationship and definitions of meaning, what is inwardmost is readily lost. Zen, on the contrary, holds to the realization that life and the sense of life are antecedent to meaning; the idea being to let life come and not name it. It will then push you right back to where you live -- where you are, and not where you are named.

There is a favorite story, frequently told by the Zen masters, of the Buddha, preaching: of how he held up a single lotus, that simple gesture being his whole sermon. Only one member of his audience, however, caught the message, a monk named Kashyapa, who is regarded now as the founder of the Zen sect. And the Buddha, noticing, gave him a knowing nod, then preached a verbal sermon for the rest: a sermon for those who required meaning, still entrapped in the net of ideas; yet pointing beyond, to escape from the net and to the way that some of them, one day or another, might find.

The Buddha himself, according to his legend, had broken the net only after years of quest and austerity, when he had arrived at last at the Bodhi-tree, the tree (so called) of enlightenment at the midpoint of the universe -- that center of his own deepest silence which T. S. Eliot in his poem "Burnt Norton" has called "the still point of the turning world." In the poet's words:

I can only say, there there we have been: but I cannot say where. we have been: but I cannot say where.

And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.

There, at that tree, the G.o.d whose name is Desire and death, by whose power the world is kept turning, approached the Blessed One to unseat him; and a.s.suming his fair character as the inciter of desire, beautiful to look upon, he displayed before the Blessed One his three exceedingly beautiful daughters, Yearning, Fulfillment, and Heartache; so that if the one seated there immovable had thought, "I," he would certainly also have thought, "They," and been stirred. However, since he had lost all sense of the ji hokkai, ji hokkai, of things separate from each other, he remained unmoved, and that first temptation failed. of things separate from each other, he remained unmoved, and that first temptation failed.

Immediately, the Lord of Desire transformed himself into King Death and flung at the Blessed One the whole force of his terrible army. But again there was neither an "I" nor a "They" where the Blessed One sat immobile, and the second temptation also failed.

Finally, a.s.suming the form of the Lord of Dharma, Duty, the Antagonist challenged the right of the Blessed One to be sitting immobile on that still point of the turning world, when the duties of his caste required him, as a prince, to be governing men from his palace. Whereupon the prince, in response, simply changed the position of his right hand, letting its fingers drop across the knee to the earth in the so-called "earth-touching posture"; at which summons the G.o.ddess Earth herself, who is Mother Nature, antecedent to society, and whose claims are antecedent too, spoke forth and with a sound of thunder made known that the one there sitting had, through innumerable lifetimes, so given of himself to the world that there was no one there.

The elephant on which the Lord of Desire, Death, and Duty was mounted bowed in reverence to the Blessed One, and the army as well as the G.o.d himself disappeared. Whereupon the one beneath the tree achieved that night the whole knowledge of which I am here speaking -- of himself as no "self," but identical with the ri hokkai, ri hokkai, transcendent of all names and forms, where (as again we read in the transcendent of all names and forms, where (as again we read in the Kena Upanishad) Kena Upanishad) "words do not reach." "words do not reach."

And when he had broken past the net of separate things, within which feeling and thought are entrapped, the Buddha was so struck by the mind-shattering sheer light that he remained seven days seated exactly as he was, in absolute arrest; then rose and, standing seven paces from the place where he had been sitting, remained gazing seven more days at the site of his enlightenment. Seven days again, and he walked back and forth between the places of his standing and his sitting; after which he sat for seven days beneath a second tree, considering the irrelevance of what he had just experienced to the world-net to which he was returning. Seven days more, beneath still another tree, and he meditated on the sweetness of release; then moved to a fourth tree, where a storm of prodigious force arose that ranged over and around him, seven days. The world serpent, ascending from its station beneath the cosmic tree, gently wrapped itself around the Blessed One, spreading its great cobra-hood above his head, protecting him as a shield. The tempest abated; the cosmic serpent withdrew; and for seven days, at ease beneath a fifth tree, the Buddha, considering, thought: "This cannot be taught."

For indeed, illumination cannot be communicated.

Yet no sooner had the Buddha conceived that thought than the G.o.ds of the highest heaven -- Brahma, Indra, and their angels -- descended to the Blessed One to beg him, for the good of mankind, the G.o.ds, and all beings, to teach. And he consented. And for forty-nine years thereafter the Buddha taught in this world. But he did not, and he could not, teach illumination. Buddhism, therefore, is only a Way. It is called a vehicle (yana) (yana) to the yonder sh.o.r.e, transporting us from this sh.o.r.e of the to the yonder sh.o.r.e, transporting us from this sh.o.r.e of the ji hokkai ji hokkai (the experience of the separation of things, the many bulbs, the separate lights) to that, yonder, of the (the experience of the separation of things, the many bulbs, the separate lights) to that, yonder, of the rihokka, rihokka, beyond concepts and the net of thought, where the knowledge of a Silence beyond silences becomes actual in the blast of an experience. beyond concepts and the net of thought, where the knowledge of a Silence beyond silences becomes actual in the blast of an experience.

And so, how then did the Buddha teach?

He went forth into the world in the character of a doctor diagnosing an illness, to prescribe for his patient a cure. First he asked, "What are the symptoms of the world disease?" And his answer was, "Sorrow!" The First n.o.ble Truth: "All life is sorrowful."

Have we heard? Have we understood? "All "All life is sorrowful!" The important word here is "all," which cannot be translated to mean "modern" life, or (as I have recently heard) "life under capitalism," so that if the social order were altered, people then might become happy. Revolution is life is sorrowful!" The important word here is "all," which cannot be translated to mean "modern" life, or (as I have recently heard) "life under capitalism," so that if the social order were altered, people then might become happy. Revolution is not not what the Buddha taught. His First n.o.ble Truth was that what the Buddha taught. His First n.o.ble Truth was that life -- all life -- all life -- is sorrowful. And his cure, therefore, would have to be able to produce relief, no matter what the social, economic, or geographical circ.u.mstances of the invalid. life -- is sorrowful. And his cure, therefore, would have to be able to produce relief, no matter what the social, economic, or geographical circ.u.mstances of the invalid.

The Buddha's second question, accordingly, was, "Can such a total cure be achieved?" And his answer was, "Yes!" The second n.o.ble Truth: "There is release from sorrow."

Which cannot have meant release from life (life-renunciation, suicide, or anything of that sort), since that would hardly have been a return of the patient to health. Buddhism is wrongly taught when interpreted as a release from life. The Buddha's question was of release not from life, but from sorrow.

So then, what would be the nature of that state of health which he not only had envisioned but himself had already achieved? That we learn from his Third n.o.ble Truth: "The release from sorrow is Nirvana."

The literal meaning of this Sanskrit noun nirvana nirvana is "blown out"; and its reference in the Buddha's sense is to an extinction of egoism. With that, there will have been extinguished also the desire of ego for enjoyment, its fear of death, and the sense of duties imposed by society. For the released one is moved from within, not by an external authority: and this motivation from within is not out of a sense of duty, but out of compa.s.sion for all suffering beings. Neither dead nor having quit the world, but in the full knowledge and experience of the is "blown out"; and its reference in the Buddha's sense is to an extinction of egoism. With that, there will have been extinguished also the desire of ego for enjoyment, its fear of death, and the sense of duties imposed by society. For the released one is moved from within, not by an external authority: and this motivation from within is not out of a sense of duty, but out of compa.s.sion for all suffering beings. Neither dead nor having quit the world, but in the full knowledge and experience of the ri hokkai, ri hokkai, the enlightened one moves in the the enlightened one moves in the ji hokkai, ji hokkai, where Gautama, after his enlightenment, taught to the great old age of eighty-two. where Gautama, after his enlightenment, taught to the great old age of eighty-two.

And what was it he taught? What he taught was the Way Way to release from sorrow, the Eightfold Path, as he termed his doctrine, of Right Views, Right Aspirations, Right Speech, Right Conduct, Livelihood, and Effort, Right Meditation, Right Rapture. to release from sorrow, the Eightfold Path, as he termed his doctrine, of Right Views, Right Aspirations, Right Speech, Right Conduct, Livelihood, and Effort, Right Meditation, Right Rapture.

But should you ask to know what the Buddha meant exactly by the term "right" (Sanskrit samyak, samyak, "appropriate, whole, complete, correct, proper, true"), you would learn from the various answers of authorities that the interpretations of the Buddha's teachings rendered by the various schools of his followers do not always agree. "appropriate, whole, complete, correct, proper, true"), you would learn from the various answers of authorities that the interpretations of the Buddha's teachings rendered by the various schools of his followers do not always agree.

The earliest disciples of Gautama followed him literally in his manner of life, quitting the secular world as monks, entering the forest or going into monasteries to engage in ascetic disciplines. Their way was the way of jiriki, jiriki, "own effort," leaving the world and by dint of great spiritual effort wiping out desire for its goods, fear of death and deprivation, all sense of social obligation, and, above all, every thought of "I" and "mine." The Buddha himself, in his life, had seemed to represent that negative way; and the monastic life has remained to this day a dominant force throughout the Buddhist world. "own effort," leaving the world and by dint of great spiritual effort wiping out desire for its goods, fear of death and deprivation, all sense of social obligation, and, above all, every thought of "I" and "mine." The Buddha himself, in his life, had seemed to represent that negative way; and the monastic life has remained to this day a dominant force throughout the Buddhist world.

However, some five hundred years after the Buddha's life and pa.s.sing (whose dates are now given generally as ca. 563-483 B.C.) -- at just about the time, that is to say, of the opening of the Christian era in the West -- there appeared in the Buddhist centers of North India a new trend in the interpretation of the doctine. The protagonists of this later view were certain late followers of the Master who themselves had achieved illumination and could appreciate implications of the doctrine that had been missed by the earliest disciples. One did not have actually to leave the world as a monk or nun, they had found, to win the gift of illumination. One could remain in life, in the selfless performance of secular tasks, and arrive no less securely at the goal.

With this momentous realization, there moved into the center of Buddhist thought and imagery a new ideal and figure of fulfillment: not the monk with the shaven head in safe retreat from the toils and tumult of society, but a kingly figure, clothed in royal guise, wearing a jeweled crown and bearing in hand a lotus symbolic of the world itself. Addressing himself to the world of our general life, this figure is known as a Bodhisattva. He is one, that is to say, whose "being" (sattva) (sattva) is "illumination" is "illumination" (bodhi), (bodhi), for as the word for as the word buddha buddha means "awakened," so means "awakened," so bodhi bodhi is "awakening, awakenment." And the best-known, most largely celebrated, great wakeful being of this order is the beautiful saint of many a wondrous legend known in Sanskrit as Avalokiteshvara. The name is generally understood to mean "The Lord who regards the world [in mercy]." The figure appears in Indian art always in masculine form; in the Far East, however, as the Chinese G.o.ddess of mercy, Kuan Yin (j.a.panese Kwannon); for such a being transcends the limits of s.e.x, and the female character, surely, is more eloquent of mercy than the male. is "awakening, awakenment." And the best-known, most largely celebrated, great wakeful being of this order is the beautiful saint of many a wondrous legend known in Sanskrit as Avalokiteshvara. The name is generally understood to mean "The Lord who regards the world [in mercy]." The figure appears in Indian art always in masculine form; in the Far East, however, as the Chinese G.o.ddess of mercy, Kuan Yin (j.a.panese Kwannon); for such a being transcends the limits of s.e.x, and the female character, surely, is more eloquent of mercy than the male.

The legend of this Bodhisattva tells that when he was about to achieve complete release from this vortex of rebirths that is our world, he heard the rocks, the trees, and all creation lamenting; and when he asked the meaning of that sound, he was told that his very presence here had given to all a sense of the immanence of nirvanic rapture, which, when he left the world, would be lost. In his selfless, boundless compa.s.sion, therefore, he renounced the release for which he had striven through innumerable lifetimes, so that, continuing in this world, he might serve through all time as a teacher and aid to all beings. He appears among merchants as a merchant, among princes as a prince; even among insects as an insect. And he is incarnate in us all whenever we are in converse with each other, instructing or mercifully helping.

There is a charming Chinese legend of the infinite saving power of this truly marvelous Bodhisattva, told of some very simple people dwelling in a village on a remote upper stream of the Yellow River. They had never heard of religion and were interested only in archery and swift horses. One early morning, however, an astonishingly beautiful young woman appeared in their village street, bearing a basket lined with fresh green leaves of the willow and filled with the golden-scaled fish of the stream. Her wares, which she cried, were immediately sold, and when they were gone, she disappeared. Next morning she returned; and so it went for a number of days. The young men of the village, of course, had taken note and, having begun to watch for her, one morning stopped her and pleaded with her to marry.

"O honorable gentlemen," she answered, "certainly I wish to marry. But I am only one woman: I cannot marry you all. So if any one of you can recite by heart the Sutra of the Compa.s.sionate Kuan Yin, he is the one I shall choose."

They had never even heard of such a thing, but that night put themselves to work; and next morning when the young woman appeared, there were thirty presenting their claim. "O honorable gentlemen, I am only one woman," she replied again. "If any one of you can explain the Sutra, he is the one I shall wed." The following morning there were ten. "If any one of you can in three days realize realize the meaning of the Sutra," she promised, "he is the one I shall marry surely." And when she arrived the third morning thereafter, there was but one there standing to greet her. His name was Mero. And when she saw him, the very beautiful young woman smiled. the meaning of the Sutra," she promised, "he is the one I shall marry surely." And when she arrived the third morning thereafter, there was but one there standing to greet her. His name was Mero. And when she saw him, the very beautiful young woman smiled.

"I perceive," she said, "that you have indeed realized the meaning of the blessed Sutra of the Compa.s.sionate Kuan Yin, and do gladly accept you as my husband. My house you will find this evening at the river bend, and my parents there to receive you."

Mero searched that evening as instructed, and at the river bend, among the rocks by the sh.o.r.e, discovered a little house. An old man and woman at the gate were beckoning, and when he approached, announcing his name, "We have been waiting for you a long time," the old man said, and the woman led him to their daughter's room.

She left him there, but the room was empty. From the open window he saw a stretch of sand as far as to the river, and in the sand, the prints of a woman's feet, which he followed, to find at the water's edge two golden sandals. He looked about in the gathering twilight and saw no house now among the rocks. There was only a cl.u.s.ter of reeds by the river, rustling dryly in an evening breeze. And then suddenly he knew: the fishermaid had been no other than the Bodhisattva herself. And he comprehended fully how great is the benevolence of the boundlessly compa.s.sionate Kuan Yin.2 That is a fable of the way of "outside help," tariki, tariki, the way of the kitten -- which is not, however, the way of Zen. the way of the kitten -- which is not, however, the way of Zen.

I have already mentioned the legend of the Buddha elevating a lotus and but one member of his audience grasping the meaning. Suppose now that I were to lift a lotus and ask you for its meaning! Or suppose, rather, not a lotus -- for a.s.sociated with the lotus are a lot of well-known allegorical references: suppose I lifted a b.u.t.tercup and asked for the meaning of a b.u.t.tercup! Or a dead stick, with the question: "What is the meaning of a dead stick?" Or still again: Suppose you asked me the meaning of Buddhism or of the Buddha, and I lifted up a dead stick!

The Buddha is known as the one "Thus Come," Tathagata. He has no more "meaning" than a flower, than a tree; no more than the universe; no more than either you or I. And whenever anything is experienced that way, simply in and for and as itself, without reference to any concepts, relevancies, or practical relationships, such a moment of sheer aesthetic arrest throws the viewer back for an instant upon his own existence without meaning; for he too simply is -- is -- "thus come" -- a vehicle of consciousness, like a spark flung out from a fire. "thus come" -- a vehicle of consciousness, like a spark flung out from a fire.

When Buddhism, in the first century A.D., was carried from India to China, an imperial welcome was accorded the monks, monasteries were established, and the formidable labor was undertaken of translating the Indian scripture. Notwithstanding the really enormous difficulty of turning Sanskrit into Chinese, the work went forward famously and had continued for a good five hundred years when there came to China from India, about the year 520 A.D., a curiously grim old Buddhist saint and sage known as Bodhidharma, who immediately proceeded to the royal palace. According to the legend of this visit, the Emperor asked this somewhat cussed guest how much merit he had gained through his building of monasteries, support of monks and nuns, patronizing of translators, etc., and Bodhidharma answered, "None!"

"Why so?" inquired the Emperor.

"Those are inferior deeds," came the answer. "Their objects are mere shadows. The only true work of merit is Wisdom, pure, perfect and mysterious, which is not to be won through material acts."

"What, then," the Emperor asked, "is the n.o.ble Truth in its highest sense?"

"It is empty," Bodhidharma answered. "There is nothing n.o.ble about it."

His Majesty was becoming annoyed. "And who is this monk before me?"

To which the monk's reply was, "I do not know." And he left the court.

Bodhidharma retreated to a monastery and settled down there, facing a wall, where, as we are told, he remained in absolute silence for nine years -- to make the point that Buddhism proper is not a function of pious works, translating texts, or performing rituals and the like. And there came to him, as he sat there, a Confucian scholar, Hui K'o by name, who respectfully addressed him, "Master!" But the Master, gazing ever at his wall, gave no sign of even having heard. Hui K'o remained standing -- for days. Snow fell; and Bodhidharma, in perfect silence, remained exactly as he was. So finally, to indicate the seriousness of his purpose, the visitor drew his sword and, cutting off his own left arm, presented this to the teacher; at which signal the monk turned.

"I seek instruction," said Hui K'o, "in the doctrine of the Buddha."

"That cannot be found through another," came the response.

"I then beg you to pacify my soul."

"Produce it, and I shall do so."

"I have sought it for years," said Hui K'o, "but when I look for it, cannot find it."

"So there! It is at peace. Leave it alone," said the monk, returning his face to the wall. And Hui K'o, thus abruptly awakened to his own transcendence of all daylight knowledge and concerns, became the first Ch'an master of China.

The next crucial teacher in this Chinese Ch'an line of great names, Hui-neng (638-713 A.D.), was an illiterate woodchopper, we are told. His mother was a widow, whom he supported by delivering firewood. And he was standing one day at the door of a private home, waiting for an order, when he overheard someone inside intoning the verses of a Mahayana scripture called the "Diamond Cutter," Vajrachchhedika. Vajrachchhedika. "Wake the mind," is what he heard, "not fixing it anywhere." And, immediately illumined, he was overcome. "Wake the mind," is what he heard, "not fixing it anywhere." And, immediately illumined, he was overcome.

Desiring to improve his understanding, Hui-neng then made his way to a monastery, the Monastery of the Yellow Plum, where the old abbot, Hung-jen, who was the leading Ch'an master of the period, sized up the illiterate youth and a.s.signed him to the kitchen. Eight months later, realizing that the time had arrived for him to fix upon a successor, Hung-jen announced that that one of his monks who could summarize best in a single stanza the essence of Buddhist teaching would be given the abbot's robe and begging bowl symbolic of the highest office. There were some five hundred monks to compete, and among them one, extraordinarily gifted, whom all expected to win: his name Shen-hsiu. And indeed, they were his his four lines that were selected and formally inscribed on the wall by the door of the refectory: four lines that were selected and formally inscribed on the wall by the door of the refectory:

The body is the Bodhi-tree, The mind, a mirror bright, Take care to wipe them always clean, Lest dust on them alight.

The idea here being that the essence of the Buddhist way is diligent purification.

The illiterate kitchen boy, however, having learned of the compet.i.tion, asked a friend that night to read to him the poem inscribed there on the wall; and when he had heard, begged to have the following set beside it:

The body is no Bodhi-tree, The mind no mirror bright, Since nothing at the root exists, On what should what dust alight?

The abbot, next morning, hearing the excited talk of his monks, came down, stood a while before the anonymous poem, took his slipper and angrily erased it. But he had correctly guessed the author and, sending that night for the kitchen boy, presented him with the robe and bowl. "Here, my son," he said; "here are the insignia of this office. Now depart! Run away! Disappear!"

Shen-hsiu's doctrine became the founding tenet of the Northern Ch'an School of China, based on the idea of "gradual teaching" (chien-chiao) (chien-chiao) and the cultivation of learning. Hui-neng, on the other hand, became the founder of a Southern School of "abrupt teaching" and the cultivation of learning. Hui-neng, on the other hand, became the founder of a Southern School of "abrupt teaching" (tun-chiao), (tun-chiao), based on the realization that Buddha-knowledge is achieved intuitively, by sudden insight. For this, however, the disciplines of a monastery are not only unnecessary but even possibly a hindrance, and such a doctrine, as the old abbot recognized, would discredit and finally undermine the entire monastic system. Hence his warning to disappear. based on the realization that Buddha-knowledge is achieved intuitively, by sudden insight. For this, however, the disciplines of a monastery are not only unnecessary but even possibly a hindrance, and such a doctrine, as the old abbot recognized, would discredit and finally undermine the entire monastic system. Hence his warning to disappear.

"Look within!" Hui-neng is reported to have taught. "The secret is inside you."

But how, if not through a study of the doctrine, may one come to any knowledge of that secret?

In the Zen monasteries of j.a.pan the preferred method is meditation, guided and inspired by a curious succession of intentionally absurd meditation topics known as koan. koan. These are drawn, for the most part, from the sayings of the old Chinese masters; as, for instance: "Show me the face you had before your father and mother were born!" or "What is the sound of the clapping of one hand?" Such conundrums cannot be reasoned upon. They first focus, then baffle, thought. In the monasteries the candidates for illumination are ordered by their masters to go meditate on these enigmas and return with answers. Time and time again they fail and are sent back to meditate further -- until one moment, suddenly, the intellect lets go and an appropriate retort breaks spontaneously forth. It has been said (I am told) that the ultimate koan is the universe itself, and that when this one has been answered the others come of themselves. "A koan," D. T. Suzuki has declared, "is not a logical proposition but the expression of a certain mental state." These are drawn, for the most part, from the sayings of the old Chinese masters; as, for instance: "Show me the face you had before your father and mother were born!" or "What is the sound of the clapping of one hand?" Such conundrums cannot be reasoned upon. They first focus, then baffle, thought. In the monasteries the candidates for illumination are ordered by their masters to go meditate on these enigmas and return with answers. Time and time again they fail and are sent back to meditate further -- until one moment, suddenly, the intellect lets go and an appropriate retort breaks spontaneously forth. It has been said (I am told) that the ultimate koan is the universe itself, and that when this one has been answered the others come of themselves. "A koan," D. T. Suzuki has declared, "is not a logical proposition but the expression of a certain mental state."3 It is that mental state of transrational insight that the apparently absurd, but actually carefully programed sequences of brain-busters are meant to provoke. And that they work and have worked for centuries is the answer to any question a captious critic might ask as to their sense or worth. It is that mental state of transrational insight that the apparently absurd, but actually carefully programed sequences of brain-busters are meant to provoke. And that they work and have worked for centuries is the answer to any question a captious critic might ask as to their sense or worth.

So let me offer now a modern Western parable of the Buddhist "wisdom of the yonder sh.o.r.e" -- that sh.o.r.e beyond reason, from which "words turn back, not having attained" -- of which I first learned some thirty-odd years ago, from the lips of my very great and good friend Heinrich Zimmer. As we have said, Buddhism is a vehicle or ferry to the yonder sh.o.r.e. So let us imagine ourselves standing on this this sh.o.r.e; let us say, on Manhattan Island. We are sick of it, fed up. We are gazing westward, over the Hudson River, and there, behold! we see Jersey. We have heard a good deal about Jersey, the Garden State; and what a change that would surely be from the filthy pavements of New York! There are no bridges yet: one has to cross by ferry. And so we have begun to sit on the docks, gazing longingly over at Jersey, meditating upon it; ignorant of its true nature, yet thinking of it ever with increasing zeal. And then one day we notice a boat putting out from the Jersey sh.o.r.e. It comes across the waters, our way, and it docks right here at our feet. There is a ferryman aboard, and he calls, "Anyone for Jersey?" "Here!" we shout. And the boatman offers a hand. sh.o.r.e; let us say, on Manhattan Island. We are sick of it, fed up. We are gazing westward, over the Hudson River, and there, behold! we see Jersey. We have heard a good deal about Jersey, the Garden State; and what a change that would surely be from the filthy pavements of New York! There are no bridges yet: one has to cross by ferry. And so we have begun to sit on the docks, gazing longingly over at Jersey, meditating upon it; ignorant of its true nature, yet thinking of it ever with increasing zeal. And then one day we notice a boat putting out from the Jersey sh.o.r.e. It comes across the waters, our way, and it docks right here at our feet. There is a ferryman aboard, and he calls, "Anyone for Jersey?" "Here!" we shout. And the boatman offers a hand.

"Are you completely sure?" he says, however, as we step down into his craft. And he warns "There is no return ticket to Manhattan. When you put out from this sh.o.r.e you will be leaving New York forever: all your friends, your career, your family, your name, prestige, everything and all. Are you still quite sure?"

We are perhaps a bit intimidated, but we nod and declare that we are sure, quite sure: we have had Fun City to the teeth.

My friends, that is the way of becoming a monk or nun; the way of monastic Buddhism; the way of the earliest followers of the Buddha, and, today, of the Buddhists of Ceylon, Burma, and Thailand. We are here entering what is known as the "little ferryboat," or "lesser vehicle," Hinayana Hinayana, so called because only those ready to renounce the world as monks or nuns can ride in this craft to the yonder sh.o.r.e. The members of the lay community, unwilling as yet to take the fateful step, will have to wait (that's all!) for a later incarnation, when they will have learned a little more about the vain conceits of their luxuries. This ferry is small, its benches are hard, and the name inscribed on its side is Theravada, Theravada, "the doctrine of the ancient saints." "the doctrine of the ancient saints."

We embark, the ferryman hands us an oar, and the craft moves out from the dock. Ship ahoy! We are on the way, but on a rather longer voyage than we knew. In fact, it may endure for a number of lives. Nevertheless, already we are enjoying it, and already we feel superior. We are the holy ones, the voyagers, the people of the crossing, neither here nor there. We actually know, of course, no more about the Garden State than the fools (as we now call them) back on sh.o.r.e in the rat-maze of New York; but we are heading in the right direction, and the rules of our life are entirely different from those of the folks back home. In terms of the ladder of the Kundalini ascent, we are at chakra chakra five, Vishuddha, "purgation," the center of ascetic disciplines. And we are finding it, at first, very interesting and absorbing. But then gradually, in a surprising way, it begins to become frustrating -- even hopeless. For the aim of it all is to get rid entirely of ego-consciousness, whereas the more we strive, the more we are building up ego, thinking of nothing, really, but ourselves: "How am five, Vishuddha, "purgation," the center of ascetic disciplines. And we are finding it, at first, very interesting and absorbing. But then gradually, in a surprising way, it begins to become frustrating -- even hopeless. For the aim of it all is to get rid entirely of ego-consciousness, whereas the more we strive, the more we are building up ego, thinking of nothing, really, but ourselves: "How am I I doing?" "Have doing?" "Have I I made any progress today? this hour? this week? this month? this year? this decade?" There are some who become so attached to all this self-examination that the last thing they really want to achieve is disembarkment. And yet, in some chance moment of self-forgetfulness, the miracle might indeed take place and our boat, in the spirit of the ancient saints, put to beach -- in Jersey, the Garden State, Nirvana. And we step ash.o.r.e. We have left the boat and all its dos and don'ts behind. made any progress today? this hour? this week? this month? this year? this decade?" There are some who become so attached to all this self-examination that the last thing they really want to achieve is disembarkment. And yet, in some chance moment of self-forgetfulness, the miracle might indeed take place and our boat, in the spirit of the ancient saints, put to beach -- in Jersey, the Garden State, Nirvana. And we step ash.o.r.e. We have left the boat and all its dos and don'ts behind.

But now let us realize where we are. We have arrived at the ri hokkai, ri hokkai, the sh.o.r.e of the knowledge of unity, nonduality, no separateness; and, turning to see what the Manhattan sh.o.r.e might look like from this absolute point of view. . . Astonishment! There the sh.o.r.e of the knowledge of unity, nonduality, no separateness; and, turning to see what the Manhattan sh.o.r.e might look like from this absolute point of view. . . Astonishment! There is is no "other" sh.o.r.e. There is no separating stream; no ferryboat, no ferryman; no Buddhism, no Buddha. The former, unilluminated notion that between bondage and freedom, life in sorrow and the rapture of Nirvana, a distinction is to be recognized and a voyage undertaken from one to the other, was illusory, mistaken. This world that you and I are here experiencing in pain through time, on the plane of consciousness of the no "other" sh.o.r.e. There is no separating stream; no ferryboat, no ferryman; no Buddhism, no Buddha. The former, unilluminated notion that between bondage and freedom, life in sorrow and the rapture of Nirvana, a distinction is to be recognized and a voyage undertaken from one to the other, was illusory, mistaken. This world that you and I are here experiencing in pain through time, on the plane of consciousness of the ji hokkai, ji hokkai, is, on the plane of is, on the plane of ri hokkai, ri hokkai, nirvanic bliss; and all that is required is that we should alter the focus of our seeing and experiencing. nirvanic bliss; and all that is required is that we should alter the focus of our seeing and experiencing.

But is that not exactly what the Buddha taught and promised, some twenty-five centuries ago? Extinguish egoism, with its desires and fears, and Nirvana is immediately ours! We are already there, if we but knew. This whole broad earth is the ferryboat, already floating at dock in infinite s.p.a.ce; and everybody is on it, just as he is, already at home. That is the fact that may suddenly hit one, as "sudden illumination." Hence the name, Mahayana -- Mahayana -- "big ferryboat," "greater vehicle" -- of the Buddhism of this nondual thinking, which is the Buddhism best known as of Tibet, medieval China, Korea, and j.a.pan. "big ferryboat," "greater vehicle" -- of the Buddhism of this nondual thinking, which is the Buddhism best known as of Tibet, medieval China, Korea, and j.a.pan.

And so what we have now discovered is that the world of many separate things, the ji hokkai, ji hokkai, is not different from the is not different from the ri hokkai. ri hokkai. There is between the two no division. The Mahayana j.a.panese term for this stage of realization is There is between the two no division. The Mahayana j.a.panese term for this stage of realization is ji-ri-mu-ge, ji-ri-mu-ge, "things and unity: no division." Though moving in the world of the multiple, we realize also, "This is the One." We are experiencing as an actuality the unity of all -- and not simply all of us human beings, but the light-bulbs up there on the ceiling as well, and the walls of the great old lecture hall, and the city outside, Manhattan, and yes! the gardens of Jersey too. We include equally the past -- our numerous disparate pasts -- and the future, which is already here, like an oak in the acorn. To walk about in knowledge and experience of all this is to live as in a wondrous dream. "things and unity: no division." Though moving in the world of the multiple, we realize also, "This is the One." We are experiencing as an actuality the unity of all -- and not simply all of us human beings, but the light-bulbs up there on the ceiling as well, and the walls of the great old lecture hall, and the city outside, Manhattan, and yes! the gardens of Jersey too. We include equally the past -- our numerous disparate pasts -- and the future, which is already here, like an oak in the acorn. To walk about in knowledge and experience of all this is to live as in a wondrous dream.

Nor is this, finally, all; for there is still one more degree of realization possible of discovery, namely that termed in j.a.panese ji-ji-mu-ge: ji-ji-mu-ge: "thing and thing: no division": no separation between things. The a.n.a.logy suggested is of a net of gems: the universe as a great spread-out net with at every joint a gem, and each gem not only reflecting all the others but itself reflected in all. An alternate image is of a wreath of flowers. In a wreath, no flower is the "cause" of any other, yet together, all are the wreath. Normally we think of causes and effects. I give this book a push and it moves. It moved because I pushed it. The cause preceded the effect. What is the cause, though, of the growth of an acorn? The oak that is to come! What is to happen in the future is then the cause of what is occurring now; and, at the same time, what occurred in the past is also the cause of what is happening now. In addition, a great number of things round about, on every side, are causing what is happening now. Everything, all the time, is causing everything else. "thing and thing: no division": no separation between things. The a.n.a.logy suggested is of a net of gems: the universe as a great spread-out net with at every joint a gem, and each gem not only reflecting all the others but itself reflected in all. An alternate image is of a wreath of flowers. In a wreath, no flower is the "cause" of any other, yet together, all are the wreath. Normally we think of causes and effects. I give this book a push and it moves. It moved because I pushed it. The cause preceded the effect. What is the cause, though, of the growth of an acorn? The oak that is to come! What is to happen in the future is then the cause of what is occurring now; and, at the same time, what occurred in the past is also the cause of what is happening now. In addition, a great number of things round about, on every side, are causing what is happening now. Everything, all the time, is causing everything else.

The Buddhist teaching in recognition of this fact is called the Doctrine of Mutual Arising. It implies that no one -- n.o.body and no thing -- is to blame for anything that ever occurs, because all is mutually arising. That fundamentally is one reason why in j.a.pan, even shortly following World War II, I found among the people I met no resentment. Enemies mutually arise: they are two parts of the one thing. A leader and his following also are parts of the one thing. You and your enemies; you and your friends: all parts of the one thing, one wreath: "thing and thing: no division."

This, surely, is sublime. This, furthermore, is the inspiring idea that inhabits much Far Eastern Buddhist art. When you are looking, for example, at a j.a.panese painting of a crane, that is not simply what you or I might perceive as a crane, but the universe, a reflex of the ri hokkai, ri hokkai, the one Buddha-consciousness of all things. Moreover, anything can be looked upon and immediately experienced this way. the one Buddha-consciousness of all things. Moreover, anything can be looked upon and immediately experienced this way.

A monk came to Ch'i-an of Yen-kuan. "Who is Vairochana Buddha?" he asked.

Said the Master, "Will you kindly bring me that pitcher?"

The monk brought the pitcher to the Master, who then told him to put it back where he found it. The monk did so and asked the Master again to tell him of Vairochana.

Ch'i-an replied, "He is long since gone."4 This, finally, then, is what is meant by the Mahayana Buddhist term zen < ch'an="">< dhyana="zen">< ch'an="">< dhyana="contemplation." it="" is="" a="" way="" of="" contemplation="" that="" can="" be="" just="" as="" well="" enjoyed="" while="" walking,="" working,="" and="" otherwise="" moving="" about="" in="" this="" world,="" as="" while="" sitting="" in="" a="" lotus="" posture,="" gazing="" at="" a="" wall="" or="" at="" nothing,="" in="" the="" manner="" of="" a="" bodhidharma.="" it="" is="" a="" way="" of="" partic.i.p.ation,="" living="" gladly="" in="" this="" secular="" world,="" both="" "contemplation."="" it="" is="" a="" way="" of="" contemplation="" that="" can="" be="" just="" as="" well="" enjoyed="" while="" walking,="" working,="" and="" otherwise="" moving="" about="" in="" this="" world,="" as="" while="" sitting="" in="" a="" lotus="" posture,="" gazing="" at="" a="" wall="" or="" at="" nothing,="" in="" the="" manner="" of="" a="" bodhidharma.="" it="" is="" a="" way="" of="" partic.i.p.ation,="" living="" gladly="" in="" this="" secular="" world,="" both="" in="" in="" the="" world="" and="" of="" it,="" our="" labor="" in="" the="" earning="" of="" a="" living="" then="" being="" our="" discipline;="" the="" raising="" of="" our="" family;="" our="" intercourse="" with="" acquaintances;="" our="" sufferings="" and="" our="" joys.="" t.="" s.="" eliot,="" in="" his="" play="" the="" world="" and="" of="" it,="" our="" labor="" in="" the="" earning="" of="" a="" living="" then="" being="" our="" discipline;="" the="" raising="" of="" our="" family;="" our="" intercourse="" with="" acquaintances;="" our="" sufferings="" and="" our="" joys.="" t.="" s.="" eliot,="" in="" his="" play="" the="" c.o.c.ktail="" party,="" the="" c.o.c.ktail="" party,="" applied="" the="" idea="" --="" with="" a="" number="" of="" covert="" quotations="" from="" buddhist="" texts="" --="" to="" the="" context="" of="" a="" modern="" social="" circle.="" and="" in="" medieval="" j.a.pan="" this="" was="" the="" buddhism="" of="" the="" samurai.="" its="" influence="" can="" be="" felt="" to="" this="" day="" in="" the="" j.a.panese="" arts="" of="" defense:="" wrestling,="" swordsmanship,="" archery,="" and="" the="" rest.="" equally="" in="" the="" arts="" of="" gardening,="" flower="" arrangement,="" cooking,="" even="" wrapping="" a="" parcel="" and="" offering="" a="" present,="" this="" buddhism="" is="" in="" operation.="" its="" way="" is="" the="" "way="" of="" the="" monkey,"="" applied="" the="" idea="" --="" with="" a="" number="" of="" covert="" quotations="" from="" buddhist="" texts="" --="" to="" the="" context="" of="" a="" modern="" social="" circle.="" and="" in="" medieval="" j.a.pan="" this="" was="" the="" buddhism="" of="" the="" samurai.="" its="" influence="" can="" be="" felt="" to="" this="" day="" in="" the="" j.a.panese="" arts="" of="" defense:="" wrestling,="" swordsmanship,="" archery,="" and="" the="" rest.="" equally="" in="" the="" arts="" of="" gardening,="" flower="" arrangement,="" cooking,="" even="" wrapping="" a="" parcel="" and="" offering="" a="" present,="" this="" buddhism="" is="" in="" operation.="" its="" way="" is="" the="" "way="" of="" the="" monkey,"="" jiriki,="" jiriki,="" "own="" power,"="" exercised="" in="" relation="" not="" only="" to="" what="" might="" be="" regarded="" in="" our="" part="" of="" the="" world="" as="" concerns="" properly="" religious,="" but,="" even="" more="" deliberately="" and="" diligently,="" to="" every="" domain="" of="" life.="" which,="" in="" fact,="" is="" what="" accounts="" in="" the="" main="" for="" the="" almost="" incredible="" beauty="" of="" j.a.panese="" civilization.="" great="" poverty,="" suffering,="" cruelty,="" and="" injustices,="" all="" the="" usual="" concomitants="" of="" existence="" in="" this="" vale="" of="" tears,="" are="" present="" there="" in="" full="" measure="" --="" as="" everywhere,="" and="" as="" they="" will="" be,="" world="" without="" end.="" but="" there="" is="" also="" escape="" from="" suffering.="" the="" escape="" from="" suffering="" is="" nirvana.="" and="" nirvana="" is="" this="" world="" itself,="" when="" experienced="" without="" desire="" and="" fear,="" just="" as="" it="" is:="" "own="" power,"="" exercised="" in="" relation="" not="" only="" to="" what="" might="" be="" regarded="" in="" our="" part="" of="" the="" world="" as="" concerns="" properly="" religious,="" but,="" even="" more="" deliberately="" and="" diligently,="" to="" every="" domain="" of="" life.="" which,="" in="" fact,="" is="" what="" accounts="" in="" the="" main="" for="" the="" almost="" incredible="" beauty="" of="" j.a.panese="" civilization.="" great="" poverty,="" suffering,="" cruelty,="" and="" injustices,="" all="" the="" usual="" concomitants="" of="" existence="" in="" this="" vale="" of="" tears,="" are="" present="" there="" in="" full="" measure="" --="" as="" everywhere,="" and="" as="" they="" will="" be,="" world="" without="" end.="" but="" there="" is="" also="" escape="" from="" suffering.="" the="" escape="" from="" suffering="" is="" nirvana.="" and="" nirvana="" is="" this="" world="" itself,="" when="" experienced="" without="" desire="" and="" fear,="" just="" as="" it="" is:="" ji-ji-mu-ge.="" ji-ji-mu-ge.="" it="" is="" here!="" it="" is="" here!="" it="" is="" here!="" it="" is="">

To conclude, then: There is a popular Indian fable that Ramakrishna used to like to tell, to ill.u.s.trate the difficulty of holding in mind the two conscious planes simultaneously, of the multiple and transcendent. It is of a young aspirant whose guru had just brought home to him the realization of himself as identical in essence with the power that supports the universe and which in theological thinking we personify as "G.o.d." The youth, profoundly moved, exalted in the notion of himself as at one with the Lord and Being of the Universe, walked away in a state of profound absorption; and when he had pa.s.sed in that state through the village and out onto the road beyond it, he beheld, coming in his direction, a great elephant bearing a howdah on its back and with the mahout, the driver, riding -- as they do -- high on its neck, above its head. And the young candidate for sainthood, meditating on the proposition "I am G.o.d; all things are G.o.d," on perceiving that mighty elephant coming toward him, added the obvious corollary, "The elephant also is G.o.d." The animal, with its bells jingling to the majestic rhythm of its stately approach, was steadily coming on, and the mahout above its head began shouting, "Clear the way! Clear the way, you idiot! Clear the way!" The youth, in his rapture, was thinking still, "I am G.o.d; that elephant is G.o.d." And, hearing the shouts of the mahout, he added, "Should G.o.d be afraid of G.o.d? Should G.o.d get out of the way of G.o.d?" The phenomenon came steadily on with the driver at its head still shouting at him, and the youth, in undistracted meditation, held both to his place on the road and to his transcendental insight, until the moment of truth arrived and the elephant, simply wrapping its great trunk around the lunatic, tossed him aside, off the road.

Physically shocked, spiritually stunned, the youth landed all in a heap, not greatly bruised but altogether undone; and rising, not even adjusting his clothes, he returned, disordered, to his guru, to require an explanation. "You told me," he said, when he had explained himself, "you told me that I was G.o.d." "Yes," said the guru, "you are G.o.d." "You told me that all things are G.o.d." "Yes," said the guru again, "all things are G.o.d." "That elephant, then, was G.o.d?" "So it was. That elephant was G.o.d. But why didn't you listen to the voice of G.o.d, shouting from the elephant's head, to get out of the way?"