Reclusland

A wandering ascetic named Naked Kassapa came to the Buddha and asked: “Is suffering/stress/anxiety caused by oneself?  Can it be said, if one is suffering, that this suffering was brought about through one’s own actions?”

Buddha: “No, it cannot.”  For to speak of it thus makes one responsible for all the suffering that befalls them, and clearly this cannot be true.

NK: “Then can it be said that that one’s suffering is brought about through the actions of another?”

B: “No, it cannot.” For to speak of it thus removes all responsibility for one’s suffering from oneself, and inclines one towards lethargy and complaint.

NK: “Then can it be said that one’s suffering is brought about both through the actions of oneself and of others?”

B: “No, it cannot.” For to speak of it thus is to create a false dichotomy where in one falls into either one or the other of the two prior traps.

NK: “Then since one’s suffering is not brought about by either one’s own actions or the actions of others, can it be said that it is brought about by the whims of chance?”

B: “No, it cannot.”  For to speak of it thus means the suffering will be entirely ignored, as if it carried no message within it.

NK: “Well then, can suffering be said to be nonexistant?”

B: “No, it cannot.” For clearly suffering does exist.

NK: “Then, good Gotama, clearly you do not know suffering, nor do you see suffering.”

B: “This is not true. I have knowledge of suffering; I see suffering.”

NK: “Well my lord, can you please help to clarify the nature of suffering for me, and explain to me this knowledge that you have?”

B: “To say that suffering comes from within is to become a solipsist, as if the world depended entirely on oneself.  Yet to say that suffering comes from without leads to either depression or madness, as we then have no control over the fact that we suffer.  Instead, the Tathaagata teaches the middle way.  The cause of our suffering is our ignorance of the nature and dependent origin of that information which we perceive as causing our suffering.  If we could truly understand the actions that both brought this information into existence, and our own beliefs that cause us to label it as suffering, then we would be able to cut out the suffering at its root, and it would cease to exist entirely.”

An interpretation of the Acela Sutta (trans: here and here), come to after reading H. W. Schumann’s “The Historical Buddha”.

“Jung’s prominent disciple Marie-Louise von Franz gave her friend, Barbara Hannah, a vivid picture of being in analysis with Jung in the garden room of his house on the Lake of Zurich, when he was attentive to every natural event as comprising a synchronistic commentary on the analytic dialogue: “insects flying in, the lake lapping more audibly than usual, and so on” (Hannah, 1976: 202, n. k). He had come to the view that the psyche is not so much a factor locked inside our bodies but “more like an atmosphere in which we live” (Adler, 1973: 433). For one who has attained an on-going intuitive relationship with the self, events both inner and outer constitute the voice of the forest spirit or the snake.”

“More like an atmosphere in which we live”…

Words and forms act as simply carriers for information contained in that atmosphere.  They true meaning only within the realm of that specific atmosphere.  And there is never anything other than that atmosphere.  Only here, only this.  I don’t know if we can know it completely (either we already do or we can’t ever).  But to look for the REAL anywhere else is to fall into dream.

For “form is no other than emptiness, emptiness no other than form.  Form is exactly emptiness, emptiness exactly form.  Sensation, conception, discrimination, awareness are likewise like this.”

Had a couple of posts in my twitter feed this week (from separate people) that I thought went really well together:

Dan Bartlett: All experience is a muddle, until we make a model to explain it. The model can clarify the muddles, but the model is never the muddle itself (which, as Dan explains, is a RAW quote)

integralmath: RT @ryanbiddulph: Purpose invests you with a power which ignores negativity.

For me, this points to a balance between experience-as-meaningless (muddle) and experience-as-meaningful (model),  with these meaning-full models being created in order to give ourselves a purpose.  Having created that purpose, we gain power over the negative aspects of the chaotic muddle (ie: it helps us push through hard times to get what we want).   This is a key aspect of growing up, learning how to step outside of our immediate sensory experience and needs in order to attain a more complete purpose.

But if we cling too tightly to our self-created purpose, we lose sight of the unknown muddle, out of which newer, higher purposes can come.  And if we don’t work on good, purposeful models, we get stuck wallowing in the muddle.  Hence the need for a balancing act.

On the other hand, this entire argument is based on the assumption that the only way to make sense of life is to create a model to act as a filter over the chaotic mess of signal, and then the purpose becomes to find better, more evolved filters to gain more and more power over the unknown muddle.  Implicit in this is that life is always a muddle that needs to be modeled.

I don’t know how much I agree with that, since it implies that there is no implicit model already within the muddle.  Is it possible to move beyond the need for filters, and become the muddles way of modeling itself?

The descending dove is the mind reuniting with body, two-as-one, realization of magnetic polar nature of the self.   The dove descends, clasps snake to it, forms the feathered serpent.

It brings with it the peace that passeth all understanding.

I’ve been hoping to have some little moments or stories to share with you from my trips to the monastery, some wisdom to bring back from the mountain so to speak, but I have been having a hard time coming up with anything good.  I suppose I could make attempts to summarize what the various teachers and monastics say in their talks, playing the good reporter and bringing you all along with me into the meditation hall, as much as my memory will allow, but that seems empty to me.

Because what would I be offering you by doing so?  If you wanted to go listen to talks at a zen monastery, you’d be in one, I hope.  Besides, there’s plenty of places on the internet where dharma talks are freely given, and there you can get them exact, not partially recalled.  Instead, since you’re here, I have to assume you have some interest in hearing my take on the particular perspective on the world I happen to inhabit.  That being so, I’d much prefer to pass on the little moments and experiences that really struck me as somehow capturing the spirit of teaching.

Besides, don’t they always say that Zen is a direct pointing to and realization of one’s own true nature? Beyond words and scriptures, and concerned with the direct experiencing of things such-as-they-are?

Well, with that in mind, here’s a little story for you:

Back in April, when I attended my first sesshin (meditation intensive), I was part of the crew that was cleaning the zendo out during the periods of “work practice” (other work practices I’ve been involved with are planing wood, installing insulation in a attic, digging drainage ditches, laying stone pathways in the garden, and, of course, cleaning the bathrooms.)  In order to do so, we had to pick up all the zabutons and zafus throughout the whole zendo, stack them up carefully, vacuum and mop the floors, and then put everything back in the same order.

This picture is why I love the internet…

That’s the actual meditation hall at the Monastery (picture links to source).  Anyway, as you can see, the cushions are supposed to be lined up pretty nicely.  It being my first time, I was a little worried about having to line them back up after the floor had been cleaned.  Not only did we have line them up pretty much perfectly perpendicular to the walls, but all the rows had to be parallel to each other as well. This an not easy thing to do on any occasion, and particularly not in the middle of three silent days of 4:00am~9:30pm meditation.

We’d laid out a few rows, and I was stepping back to eyeball them, when the supervisor, a senior student, came back from putting the mops and vacuums away.  He pulled me aside and pointed out the hardwood floor, and the perfectly parallel lines that the wood made naturally, just by being laid out the way it was.  All we had to was find the correct line on the floor (the ends of the rows were marked with tape), and adjust each cushion up so the front was barely touching the line.   Walk up to each cushion, look at the cushion itself, match it to the line that was already perfectly in place, and then move on to the next cushion.

Needless to say we were able to line up all the cushions properly within minutes, without ever having to step back or eyeball anything…

For us, just now, we have some fear of death, but after we resume our true original nature, there is Nirvana.  That is why we say “to attain Nirvana is to pass away”.  “To pass away” is not a very adequate expression.  Perhaps “to pass on” or “to go on” or “to join” would be better.  Will you try to find some better expression for death?  When you find it, you will have quite a new interpretation of your life!

“Vain is the word of the philosopher which heals not the suffering of man.”

So, before departing on the spiritual path, we remain in the so-called “impure” state of samsara, which is, in appearance, governed by ignorance. When we commit ourselves to that path, we cross a state where ignorance and wisdom are mixed. At the end, at the moment of Enlightenment, only pure wisdom exists. But all the way along this spiritual journey, although there is an appearance of transformation, the nature of the mind has never changed: it was not corrupted on entry onto the path, and it was not improved at the time of realization.

The navigator who lands on an island made entirely of fine gold, will not find a single nugget, no matter how hard he searches.

From here (by way of clothedinsky)

This ancient saying, chosen by me for the beginning of the second series of my writings, is formulated thus:

“Only he will deserve the name of man and can count on anything prepared for him from Above, who has already acquired corresponding data for being able to preserve intact both the wolf and the sheep confided to his care”

An analysis of this saying clearly shows that the word “wolf” symbolizes the whole of the fundamental and reflex functioning of the human organism, and the word “sheep”, the whole functioning of a man’s feeling.  As for the functioning of the man’s thinking, this is represented in the saying by the man himself.

Anyone calling himself a man must never be lazy, but, constantly devising all sorts of compromises, must struggle with his self-avowed weaknesses in order to attain the aim he has set for himself:  to preserve intact these two independent animals confided to the care of his reason, and which are, by their very essence, opposite to each other.

(a bit paraphrased from the introduction to Gurdjieff’s 2nd book)

I’ve been keeping this in my drafts for about a week now, but now seems like a good time to post it.  The youtube clip is of  Peter Brock’s film based on Gurdjieff’s book, with actual Gurdjieff dances.  The above is one of my favorites.  If you’re interested, the whole movie can be seen here.

When I was at Eiheiji monastery in Japan, everyone was just doing what he should do.  That is all.  It is the same as waking up in the morning; we have to get up.  At Eiheiji monastery, when we had to sit, we sat; when we had to bow to Buddha, we bowed to Buddha.  That is all.  And when we were practicing, we did not feel anything special.  We did not even feel that we were leading a monastic life.  For us, the monastic life was the usual life, and the people who came from the city were unusual people.  When we saw them we felt, “Oh, some unusual people have come!”

But once I had left Eiheiji and been away for some time, coming back was different.  I heard the various sounds of practice – the bells and the monks reciting the sutra – and I had a deep feeling.  There were tears flowing out of my eyes, nose, and mouth!  It is the people who are outside the monastery who feel it’s atmosphere.  Those who are practicing actually do not feel anything.  I think this is true for everything.  When we hear the sound of the pine trees on a windy day, perhaps the wind is just blowing, and the pine tree is just standing in the wind.  That is all that they are doing.  But the people who listen to the wind in the tree will write a poem, or feel something unusual.  That is, I think, the way everything is.

Daido Roshi, founder and abbot of the Zen Mountain Monastery, speaks on the reasons to become (or not to become) a member of a monastic order.  From PBS’s program The Congregation.

So I promised a breakdown of the Ango training I’ve signed myself up for, and, seeing as I have this entire evening to myself, I thought I’d write something up.

Ango translates as “peaceful dwelling”, and although it is a tradition within the Zen line of Buddhism, it can be traced all the way back to the Buddha and his sangha.  In India at the time, spiritual seekers would give up the homelife with a ceremonial shaving of the head and donning of a monk’s robes.   They would wander the countryside begging for alms (readily given out of respect for their search, which makes me rather jealous…), and the Buddha was no exception.  Before he came to realization, he wandered around the countryside, visiting various people, religious sites, and spiritual schools, on a permanent pilgrimage of sorts.  And after his realization, he continued to wander and encouraged his sagha to do so as well (often separately, alone or in small groups)

The problem with this is that India has some pretty intense weather during the summer and winters.  The monsoons blow in and it becomes dangerous to be alone out in the wilds.  At those times, the Buddha’s sangha would gather and practice together.  This was what become know as Ango, both a peaceful dwelling away from the rains, and a peaceful dwelling in the shared practice of the dharma.

Given that many people in America travel during the summer and winter months, we’ve moved our Ango periods to the spring and fall.  Change in practice is complimented by the change of the seasons, and it’s easier for everyone to stay involved.  During Ango, we are encouraged to intensify all aspects of our practice, from body practice, to art practice, to meditation, to academic study, etc etc…

And so I’ve decided to get as much out of this as possible, by diving into it head first.  The plan right now is as follows:

- meditation: 30 minutes every morning, without fail.  Longer if possible.  Chanting of the Tara Mantra before every mediation and the Prajna Paramita Heart Sutra afterwords.

- body practice: 30 minutes of Chi Kung every day, at least one yoga class and at least one trip to the gym every week.

- I am also taking a 6 week refresher course in the style Chi Kung I learned earlier this year with a great teacher here in the city.  Didn’t find out about the class until a day or two before it was starting, but I luckily still managed to get in.

- art practice: the assignment given by the monastery is to sit intimately with something repeatedly throughout the 90 days, and watch our relationship with develop as our practice does.  I decided to sit and contemplate the sun, so I’m writing a short piece every day attempting to capture that feeling of intimacy with the sun.  If the results are worth posting, I’ll share them here once the Ango’s over.

- academic study: I’m attending a program at the temple here in Brooklyn where we are studying a biography of the historical Buddha, and studying various Pali texts relating to the Buddha’s spiritual quest, enlightenment, and teaching.  On top of that, I’m also reading Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind, Karen Armstrong’s Buddha, Zen and the Art of Archery, and Lord of Light (thanks to a reminder from Mahasamatman himself…).

- One day long meditation intensive at the temple (this Saturday) and another full week sesshin towards the end of November.

- A Chi Kung retreat with Ken Cohen in October (chi kung and shamanism? fuck yeah!)

- A “somatic body” meditation retreat with Reggie Ray later this month.

- A talk by Thich Nhat Hanh in October

So yes, it looks like I will be pretty damn busy from now until the end of November.  So far, I’m managing to hold up my end of the bargain, and strangely enough, I seem to have more time and energy than I did before…  Who would have thought that action would lead to more action?

I will keep you posted on my progress (if there’s anything worth reporting) as things go along.  Be well, and strong practice to you all.

by way of esoteric Chinese Buddhism:

Another time, Fazang illustrated the Huayan teachings for Empress Wu by constructing a hall of mirrors, placing mirrors on the ceiling, floor, four walls, and four corners of a room. In the center he placed a Buddha image with a lamp next to it. Standing in this room, the empress could see that the reflection in any one mirror clearly reflected the reflections from all of the other mirrors, including the specific reflection of the Buddha image in each one. This fully demonstrated the unobstructed interpenetration of the particular and the totality, with each one contained in all, and with all contained in each one. Moreover, it showed the nonobstructed interpenetration of each particular mirror with each of the others.

From a great article on the Avatamsaka Sutra.

is silence, sort of.

Anyway, sorry for the quietude here, been busy with work, travel, and real world joys/woes, although there has been some interesting discussions on the Grail legend, quest(ion)ing, and suffering in the comments, if you find yourself inclined to read those.  Lots of good stuff there (with thanks, as always, to speedbird).

I do have plans for some new material, but I’ve also joined the Zen temple’s Fall Training Intensive (traditionally known as Ango) which is going to keep me pretty busy.  I hope to be able to share more on that as my engagement with it evolves, but there’s nothing much at this point  (it just started today).

In the meantime though, I wanted to share something else, briefly.  From time to time, I’ll check this site’s stats for the search terms that have drawn people here.  Today though, I found something a little different (and kind of cool, if you’re into the western mystery traditions at all…):

Since when do search engines index sites by “of” or “the”?  Weird…