Yesterday, when I returned from Walmart, there was a woman parked across the street from my house and as I was about to unload some supplies, she opened her car door and asked me if this was the right place for some sort of "Dharma" gathering she was looking for.
She was a neatly dressed woman driving a Passat that was equally well-kept. Her face was pleasant, if a bit diffident. She seemed to be in her late 40's or early 50's. I asked her what it was specifically that she was looking for and she said there was supposed to be a beginner's class that she wanted to attend. "I want to find out about Zen Buddhism."
Without grinding any serious axes, my mind skimmed over the possibilities of why: Death, disease, drugs, divorce and delight were the alliterative quickies that jumped to mind. Nothing unusual in any of that so I didn't pay much attention to the thought. I was in a good mood and the sun was shining.
We talked a little about the group she was looking for: Could she call them? No, she just got an answering machine. Well, I said, I had done my own zazen for the day, but if she wanted, I could teach her the basics. She looked dubious, as if a guy unloading groceries was hardly the format or setting she had in mind. A guy with groceries -- how serious could that be? And of course anyone wanting to take the leap into Zen practice wants to make sure that they are in some authentic Zen setting, something read about, perhaps, or something in a serene and well-polished place. Something reassuringly institutional ... you know, the serious kind of Zen, not just some pick-up, out-of-the-blue casual invitation. This was a big step, after all and ... well ... it deserved a serious setting.
The woman said thanks, closed her car door and drove off. I unloaded the groceries and only later thought ....
Once upon a time, there was a popular book in Zen called "Three Pillars of Zen" by Philip Kapleau. It was about Zen and practice and enlightenment ... the usual fare and pretty well written. But at the end of the book came the stuff that really impressed me as a relative new-comer: Several adventures written by actual-factual practitioners ... the kind of stuff that I could connect with on a personal and persuadable level. Wow ... there were actually people who did this stuff and I could connect with their views. Nothing fancy ... just people. It really banged my chimes.
And yesterday, one thought that crossed my mind was that I am now looking from the other end of the telescope -- telling my story and perhaps encouraging -- or, equally possible, dissuading -- people who were circling the Zen fire hydrant looking for a place to take a leak. Imagine that ... how weird ... how did that happen? From this end of the telescope, I no longer need the kind of reassurance I once delighted in at the end of Kapleau's book. I've met enough fellow students to be interested and respectful, rueful and delighted or whatever all else. But I no longer look up as once I did. They're fellow students. It's nice. End of topic.
Except it seemed odd, yesterday. What happened to all that whiz and wow? I don't know. I don't begrudge the loss, but I am vaguely curious as to where it all went. I'm sympathetic to it since I've done it too ... but it's not really on my radar screen when the groceries need unloading.
And the other thing I thought about was the willingness to 'teach.' I know any number of anal-retentive Zen Buddhists whose position is to 'uphold the Dharma' with stern or paradoxical words or absolutely gorgeous clothes and accoutrements. They are hip-deep in the profession and persona and woe betide anyone who strays outside the 'authentic' parameters.
It's OK, I suppose, and it certainly impresses the rubes... the kind of rubes who remind me of myself ... uncertain ... looking for serious surroundings that seemed to take my own serious hopes and fears seriously. Teach me a foreign language; give me an impossible chore to perform; hold things at a rarified and purified and paradoxical distance ... tease me with the carrot of real Zen training.
When it's not corrupt, it's all OK. Seriously, it's OK.
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| Hug the sky. Let it hug you back. Pretty neat, right? |
It's all too strict by half -- just doing what's ordinary; just screwing up as usual; just getting together with whoever shows up and practicing zazen. It's too hard, being plain and conversational, but I can't manage much else. Shiiieeet! If I were visiting me, I'd have headed for the hills. Laughter and sorrow are too much like ordinary life and Zen ... well, Zen is not supposed to be ordinary. It's supposed to be wonderfully, deliciously hard while all the time someone whispers how fucking easy it is and tantalizing people still further.
There is a part of me that refuses -- big time! -- to play games I am not equipped to play. False, falser, falsest! Mind you, I could say "compassion" and "enlightenment" and "emptiness," and play ring around the koan Rosie ... and I'm not bad at it ... but it tastes like bullshit in my mouth. So I don't ... and, with the help of some stubborn ox within, I purely won't.
But I recognize it's all too strict. How much easier -- how much more 'compassionate' -- to play the compassionate role. But as the old tuna fish ad used to say, "Sorry, Charlie!" You want transference? See a shrink.
One of my favorite Zen stories concerns a teacher who realized his own strictness and then moved to correct it by offering a koan to replace his own strict and stingy teaching.
A wise and kindly man. A lot wiser and more kindly than I.
My own teacher, when I asked him about the students who came to him for training said simply, "They come and I teach them for zazen." Just zazen ... just their own lives in their own ways. You want to put zazen on your life's menu, that's fine. In fact, I would call it sensible.
But I wouldn't be surprised if you shut the car door and drove off either. As the refrigerator magnet suggests, "Your life is so difficult that it has never been tried before."
How good could Zen Buddhism be if the best it could manage was to run around trying to convince someone who was already convinced?
Just some passing thoughts. I'm too old a dog to learn new (and of course 'improved') tricks.
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Let her go to the real Zen "Professionals". They are waiting out there with all the right costumes, credentials and official Zen talking points, ready to snare a new devotee like her.
ReplyDeleteAfter 10 years she'll be ready for the real thing.
Maybe after twenty years she'll be happy carrying groceries....
ReplyDeleteWalmart? Passat?
ReplyDeleteIt's like expecting that the broken will follow the broke.
Where's the imperial Zen bling? Where is wabi-Sabi in evidence.
At least provide some gourmet health food, a well appointed New England estate and a lightly used Audi.
"From this end of the telescope" -- What silliness.
"My shit don't stink!"
Ha!
I became a "Serious Zen student" for a spell. Then, it dawned on me in one day in dokusan, with my teacher sitting imposingly in front of me that this was no different than the Catholic religion of my youth...replete with robes. The authentic, transmitted teachers insist that the only worthy practice was through them. I took my zafu and went home...to my more than difficult enough life...and occasionally sit zazen, but mostly work, play and clean the litter box.
ReplyDeleteThanks for a great post, Adam. Thoroughly enjoyed it. :)
"People who were circling the Zen fire hydrant looking for a place to take a leak." That's some great stuff right there.
ReplyDeletethanks.
ReplyDelete