The Zen Experience Part 32

The important thing is to concentrate totally on a koan. This concentration need not necessarily be confined to meditation, as Ta-hui ill.u.s.trates using one of the more celebrated one-word statements of Yun-men.

_A monk asked Yun-Men, "What is Buddha?" Yun-Men said, "A dry piece of s.h.i.t." Just bring up this saying. . . .Don't ask to draw realization from the words or try in your confusion to a.s.sess and explain. . . .

Just take your confused unhappy mind and shift it onto "A dry piece of s.h.i.t." Once you hold it there, then the mind . . . will naturally no longer operate. When you become aware that it's not operating, don't be afraid of falling into emptiness. . . . In the conduct of your daily activities, just always let go and make yourself vast and expansive.

Whether you're in quiet or noisy places, constantly arouse yourself with the saying "A dry piece of s.h.i.t." As the days and months come and go, of itself your potential will be purified and ripen. Above all you must not arouse any external doubts besides: when your doubts about "A dry piece of s.h.i.t" are smashed, then at once doubts numerous as the sands of the Ganges are all smashed.20

_

Although Ta-hui was a strong advocate of the koan, he was staunchly against its being used in a literary sense. Whenever a student starts a.n.a.lyzing koans intellectually, comparing one against another, trying to understand rationally how they affect his nonrational intelligence, he misses the whole point. The only way it can work is if it is fresh.

Only then does it elicit a response from our spontaneous intelligence, our intuitive mind.

But the Sung trend toward intellectualism was almost irresistible. The prestige of the Chinese "gentleman"--who could quote the ancient poets, compose verse himself, and a.n.a.lyze enlightenment--was the great nemesis of Ch'an.

_Gentlemen of affairs who study the path often understand rationally without getting to the reality. Without discussion and thought they are at a loss, with no place to put their hands and feet--they won't believe that where there is no place to put one's hands and feet is really a good situation. They just want to get there in their minds by thinking and in their mouths to understand by talking--they scarcely realize they've already gone wrong.21

_

Equally bad was the Ch'an student who memorized koans rather than trying to understand them intuitively.

_A gentleman reads widely in many books basically in order to augment his innate knowledge. Instead, you have taken to memorizing the words of the ancients, acc.u.mulating them in

your breast, making this your task, depending on them for something to take hold of in conversation. You are far from knowing the intent of the sages in expounding the teachings. This is what is called counting the treasure of others all day long without having half a cent of your own.22

_Ta-hui rightly recognized in such scholarship an impending destruction of Ch'an's innate vigor. At one point, in desperation, he even destroyed the original printing blocks for the best-known koan collection of the time, the _Blue Cliff Record _compiled by his master, Yuan-wu.23 But the trend continued nonetheless.

Ch'an was not over yet, however. It turns out that the sect did not continue to fly apart and diversify as might be suspected, but rather it actually consolidated. Although the Kuei-yang and Fa-yen houses fizzled comparatively quickly, the Yun-men lasted considerably longer, with an identifiable line of transmission lasting virtually throughout the Sung Dynasty. The Ts'ao-tung house languished for a while, but with Silent Illumination Ch'an it came back strongly during the Sung Dynasty. Lin-chi split into two factions in the early eleventh century, when two pupils of the master Ch'u-yuan (986-1036) decided to go their own way, One of these masters, known as Huang-lung Hui-nan (1002-1069), started a school which subsequently was transmitted to j.a.pan by the j.a.panese master Eisai, where it became known as Oryo Zen. However, this school did not last long in China or j.a.pan, becoming moribund after a few generations. The other disciple of Ch'u-yuan was a master named Yang-ch'i Fang-hui (992-1049), whose school (known in j.a.panese as Yogi Zen) eventually became the only school of Chinese Ch'an, absorbing all other sects when the faith went into its final decline after the Sung.

Ta-hui was part of this school, and it was the branch of the Lin-chi sect that eventually took hold in j.a.pan.

In closing our journey through Chinese Ch'an we must note that the faith continued on strongly through the Sung largely because the government began selling ordinations for its own profit. Ch'an also continued to flourish during the Mongol-dominated Yuan Dynasty (1279- 1309), with many priests from j.a.pan coming to China for study. During the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644), it merged with another school of Buddhism, the Pure Land Salvationist sect, and changed drastically.

Although Ming-style Chinese Ch'an still persists today, mainly outside China, its practice bears scant resemblance to the original teachings.

For the practice of the cla.s.sical Ch'an described here we must now turn to j.a.pan.

PART IV

ZEN IN j.a.pAN

. . . in which Ch'an is imported to j.a.pan by traditional Buddhists disillusioned with the spiritual decadence of existing j.a.panese sects.

Through a fortuitous a.s.sociation with the rising military cla.s.s, Ch'an is eventually elevated to the most influential religion of j.a.pan.

Before long, however, it evolves into a political and cultural rather than a spiritual force. Although some j.a.panese attempt to restore Ch'an's original vigor by deliberately attacking its "High Church"

inst.i.tutions, few j.a.panese Zen teachers respect its original teachings and practice. j.a.panese teachers contribute little to the Ch'an (Zen) experience until finally, in the eighteenth century, a spiritual leader appears who not only restores the original vitality of the faith, but goes on to refine the koan practice and revolutionize the relationship of Zen to the common people. This inspired teacher, Hakuin, creates modern Zen.

Chapter Fifteen

EISAI:

THE FIRST j.a.pANESE MASTER

There is a twelfth-century story that the first j.a.panese monk who journeyed to China to study Ch'an returned home to find a summons from the j.a.panese court. There, in a meeting reminiscent of the Chinese sovereign Wu and the Indian Bodhidharma some seven hundred years before, j.a.pan's emperor commanded him to describe the teachings of this strange new cult. The bemused monk (remembered by the name Kakua) replied with nothing more than a melody on his flute, leaving the court flabbergasted.1 But what more ideal expression of China's wordless doctrine?

As in the China entered by Bodhidharma, medieval j.a.pan already knew the teachings of Buddhism. In fact, the j.a.panese ruling cla.s.ses had been Buddhist for half a millennium before Ch'an officially came to their attention. However, contacts with China were suspended midway during this time, leaving j.a.panese Buddhists out of touch with the many changes in China--the most significant being Ch'an's rise to the dominant Buddhist sect.2 Consequently the j.a.panese had heard almost nothing about this sect when contacts resumed in the twelfth century.

To their amazement they discovered that Chinese Buddhism had become Ch'an. The story of Ch'an's transplant in j.a.pan is also the story of its preservation, since it was destined to wither away in China.

Perhaps we should review briefly how traditional Buddhism got to j.a.pan in the first place. During the sixth century, about the time of Bodhidharma, a statue of the Buddha and some sutras were transmitted to j.a.pan as a gift/bribe from a Korean monarch seeking military aid. He claimed Buddhism was very powerful although difficult to understand.

Not all j.a.panese, however, were overjoyed with the appearance of a new faith. The least pleased were those employed by the existing religion, the j.a.panese cult of Shinto, and they successfully discredited Buddhism for several decades. But a number of court intrigues were underway at the time, and one faction got the idea that Buddhism would be helpful in undermining the Shinto-based ruling clique. Eventually this new faction triumphed, and by the middle of the seventh century, the j.a.panese were constructing Buddhist temples and paG.o.das.3

Other imports connected with these early mainland contacts were Chinese writing and the Chinese style of government. The j.a.panese even recreated the T'ang capital of Ch'ang-an, consecrated at the beginning of the eighth century as Nara, their first real city. The growing Buddhist establishment soon overwhelmed Nara with a host of sects and temples, culminating in 752 with the unveiling of a bronze meditating Buddha larger than any statue in the world.

j.a.pan was now awash in thirdhand Buddhism, as Chinese missionaries patronizingly expounded Sanskrit scriptures they themselves only vaguely understood. Buddhism's reputation for powerful magic soon demoralized the simple religion of Shinto, with its unpretentious shrines and rites, and this benign nature reverence was increasingly pushed into the background. The impact of Buddhism became so overwhelming that the alarmed emperor finally abandoned Nara entirely to the Buddhists, and at the close of the eighth century set up a new capital in central j.a.pan, known today as Kyoto.

The emperor also decided to discredit the Nara Buddhists on their own terms, sending to China for new, competing sects. Back came emissaries with two new schools, which soon a.s.sumed dominance of j.a.panese Buddhism. The first of these was Tendai, named after the Chinese T'ien- t'ai school. Its teachings centered on the Lotus Sutra, which taught that the human Buddha personified a universal spirit, evidence of the oneness permeating all things. The Tendai school was installed on Mt.

Hiei, in the outskirts of Kyoto, giving birth to an establishment eventually to number several thousand buildings. The monks on Mt. Hiei became the authority on Buddhist matters in j.a.pan for several centuries thereafter, and later they also began meddling in affairs of state, sometimes even resorting to arms. Tendai was, and perhaps to some degree still is, a faith for the fortunate few. It did not stress an idealized hereafter, since it served a cla.s.s--the idle aristocracy-- perfectly comfortable in the present world. In any case, it became the major j.a.panese Buddhist sect during the Heian era (794-1185), a time of aristocratic rule.

The other important, and also aristocratic, version of Buddhism preceding Zen was called Shingon, from the Chinese school Chen-yen, a magical-mystery sect thriving on secrecy and esoteric symbolism. It appealed less to the intellect than did Tendai and more to the taste for entertainment among the bored aristocrats. Although Shingon monasteries often were situated in remote mountainous areas, the intrigue of their engaging ceremonies (featuring efflorescent iconography, chants, and complex liturgies) and their evocative mandalas (geometrical paintings full of symbolism) made this sect a theatrical success. This so-called Esoteric Buddhism of Shingon grew so popular that the sober Tendai sect was obliged to start adding ritualistic complexity into its own practices.4

The j.a.panese government broke off relations with China less than a hundred years after the founding of Kyoto, around the middle of the ninth century. From then until the mid-twelfth century mainland contacts virtually ceased, and consequently both j.a.panese culture and j.a.panese Buddhism gradually evolved away from their Chinese models. The j.a.panese aristocracy became obsessed with aesthetics, finery, and refined lovemaking accompanied by poetry, perfumes, and flowers.5 They distilled the vigorous T'ang culture to a refined essence, rather like extracting a delicate liqueur from a stout potion.