Getting saved??

Where to throw the lifeline?

Let me state the obvious: Being saved requires someone to save. An extension of this thought concerns the apparent need to be saved. Only someone who believes they are lost need to worry him or herself with finding their way. 

A fool is someone who is not lost, isn’t yet remains convinced they are. Consequently, if someone is persuaded they need to be saved, only then does a savior make any sense. And this brings us to that central of all issues: duality and separation.

Where does the idea come from that “people of the book” (e.g., Jews, Christians, and Muslims) need saving? Those three religions hold a common understanding based on a shared segment of the Old Testament. The first five books—Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, the book of Numbers, and Deuteronomy—comprise the Torah, the story of Israel from the Genesis creation narrative to the death of Moses. Genesis is common to all three religions. Jews, Christians, and Muslims share the story of creation involving Adam and Eve, who allegedly disobeyed God by eating an apple and were cast out of paradise and thus in need of being saved. 

But (and this is a big “but”) since Adam and Eve were stained with sin (as well as their progeny), they were incapable of saving themselves and thus needed a savior. And here is where the story begins to divide amongst the Jews, Christians, and Muslims. All three accepted the inherent nature of mankind as fallen, being condemned by God due to original sin, but how they were reconciled significantly varied.

The Christian answer to this dilemma is that God took pity on mankind because he loved them so much that he “sent his only begotten son” to take the sins of the world upon himself and offer himself as a sacrifice to appease God (who demanded justice as recompense). By being crucified on a cross, died, was buried, overcame death by rising from the dead, and bringing the Holy Spirit to abide in the hearts of those who confessed their sinful nature and accepted Jesus as Lord and Savior. 

Only if that confession took place would God grant reconciliation, forgiveness and give believers a new heart filled with the Holy Spirit to replace an old heart that was filled with sin. In essence, that was, and is, the story that continues to inspire those who consider themselves as “born again.” Everyone else who chose to not accept this story was regarded as heretics and damned to Hell.

So the essence of this proposition boils down to believing in the original sin of Adam and Eve. If that part of the story breaks down, then the entire story of needing a savior likewise falls apart. I have written a commentary on this story, which speaks to some serious flaws in the story. It will convince no one who considers this creation story as historical fact and has closed his or her mind to alternate interpretations. Nevertheless, it is a reasonable commentary of a metaphor with a deeper meaning that comes very close to the Buddhist understanding. 

The significant difference between the two is the notion of duality, separation, and where to find the kingdom of Heaven. Here is what Jesus is recorded as having said about Heaven and finding your true self: 

“If your leaders say, ‘Look, the Kingdom is in the Heavens,’ then the birds will be before you. If they say, ‘It is in the ocean,’ then the fish will be before you. But the Kingdom is inside of you and the Kingdom is outside of you. When you know yourself, then you will know that you are of the flesh of the living Father. But if you know yourself not, then you live in poverty and that poverty is you.”—Gospel of Thomas 3.

Others have suggested that we are not lost but instead consider ourselves to be. To a person of Zen, words are a mixed blessing. They can lead you astray or open your mind to the music of the muses. One of the greatest mystical poets of all time was RabindranathTagore.  Sadly, while he lived, he was little known outside of the Calcutta area, and not known at all outside of India. The Nobel Prize in Literature 1913 was awarded to Tagore, “because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with consummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West.”

One of Tagor’s resonate themes is opening doors. Here is one facet from his poetic jewel Journey Home. 

“The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.” 

Similarly, one of the great Zen Masters (Hakuin Zenji) wrote a famous poem called The Song of Zazen, which opens like this, 

“From the beginning all beings are Buddha. Like water and ice, without water no ice, outside us no Buddhas. How near the truth, yet how far we seek. Like one in water crying, ‘I thirst!’ Like the son of a rich man wand’ring poor on this earth, we endlessly circle the six worlds. The cause of our sorrow is ego delusion.” 

Jesus likewise wrote the parable of the Prodigal Son, which in essence expresses the same truth of a man who has the blessing from the beginning but wanders far and wide before realizing that all along, he must return home to find what he had lost.

The principle treasure of Buddhist understanding is that we are not lost or in need of saving. We have never been separated from our source (our inherent and eternally indwelling, indiscriminate true self), which remains obscure due to ego delusion. We are all in essence Buddha’s awaiting awakening, and once that true nature is revealed, your entire self-understanding and the universal view are transformed for all time. You then know in the depth of your core that we are all united, one and the same—none better and none lesser and fundamentally indiscriminate. There is profound liberty that comes with the realization that we can never be anywhere that God is not, and in God’s eyes, we are all equal and loved without conditions.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing, and perfect will.” The Apostle Paul—Romans12:2

“First awaken the mind that reads, and then you’ll understand.”—Zen Master Bassui Tokushō

Bringing it home.

Initial dawning and ripple effects.

For those who may think Zen has no practical impact on their lives, guess again. 

How so? In spite of ignorance concerning this amazing practice, Zen is not a religion. Instead, it is, perhaps, the only means available for unveiling our deepest nature and becoming aware that nobody is who they think they are; good, bad, or in-between.

The Buddha’s “diagnosis” for unveiling this true nature was/is like a stone dropped into the water. Initially, there is only the penetration but then the ripple effects just keep on expanding like waves rolling outward from the source. His Four Noble Truths lay out the sickness and his Eight Fold Path reveals the remedy. And central to that remedy is what we now call Zen, but was then known as Dhyāna—absorption, so deep and intense that the imagined “you” simply (well not so simply) vanishes and the real “you” emerges, which in naked-relief is not a “you.” Instead, it is seen for what it is as “unity” with the rest of humanity (not to mention other sentient forms).

Why is this so critical and eternally important to all sentient beings? Because it eradicates that imagined self-image and replaces it with who/what we all are, and that removes all human conflicts. So, as in my own case, that self-image was one of hatred of myself. Importantly any image (the self included) is not real. It is only imagined, as all images are. We would never delude ourselves that moving images we see on our TV are real, but we make that error all of the time with ourselves. Living with a sense of self-hatred is poisonous and nearly led me to commit suicide. 

At the other end of this ego spectrum lies the delusion of superiority. It was Eckhart who said that humanity in the poorest state is considered by God equal to an emperor or Pope.  Any and all aspects of self-delusion (e.g., good, bad or in between) hides our genuine connection with the rest of humanity.

Attachment of every kind leaves one vulnerable to suffering when the object of attachment dies, which all conditional phenomena eventually do. That part of attachment is clearer than when the object of attachment is ourselves. You’d think that wouldn’t be a problem since when we die we won’t experience anything, suffering included. How could we? We’re already dead and imagine we don’t suffer at all. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I can’t say for sure what we experience when we die (although there is an explanation) but I can say for sure how I suffered, thinking all the while I was a terrible person who deserved only one thing: To die. Until that bubble broke I was moving toward the brink of suicide. I am not aware of any other method for accomplishing this eradication of the unreal and unveiling the real at the same time. I certainly don’t know everything and maybe there is another method but if so such a method is “the best-kept secret” of all space/time. If that isn’t practical I can’t imagine what is.

Traveling theatre

The masks we wear.

When I was much younger there was no television, only radio and it was referred to as a “theatre of the mind.” Unlike television, where we see visual performances on screens across the room, we saw performances in the imaginary theatre of the mind. 

In some ways, the imagination was more vivid and pictorial than watching images on a TV screen. Ours was an internal screen (actually our screen was the primary visual cortex located at the back of our brain). What none of us realized then with radio, or now with television, was that the ultimate screen remained, located in our brains rather than across the room.

We all look out upon our moving, conditional, changing world and see what we all take to be real. In fact what we are seeing remain images being projected upon that internal screen—our primary visual cortex. Images are all just shadows of what’s real. And out of that projection, we form an idea of who we are; one self-image built upon other images and none of it real. 

Nevertheless, we take it (our egos/self-images) as real and become persuaded, guarded and protective of that fabricated image, feeling insulted and inflamed when the role requires a different sort of performance. Some are fabricated out of harsh experiences and formed into negative self-images (hateful and hated) while others fabricate theirs out of more genteel material and fabricate loving self-images, with every step in between. 

Regardless of harshness, genteel, or anywhere in between, all of the end results are unreal simply because the material is unreal. The base material determines the end result. As the saying goes, “You can’t make filet mignon out of hamburger.” The fundamental point here is that we all take our ideas of whom and what we are far too seriously, never realizing how conditionally unreal we are actually. 

How much better, for everyone if we all recognized this fact and lightened our emotional/mental load and became what we truly are—performers, acting out changing roles. And as performers, we adapt to changing circumstances with changing roles and play the part as circumstances dictate.

And a part of this traveling theatre is the recognition that we are also real observers. So we play the roles, with a chuckle in our hearts, knowing full well that we can perform as the role dictates and at the end of the day leave the roles behind and go home to ourselves. It is important to us all to see conditional life as just a show. We are the players; all different. Conditional life is the stage, and the real us—all the same, are the observers: as different and distinct as snowflakes yet fundamentally just indiscriminate snow. Distinctive snowflakes melt into indistinct snow and that becomes the water of unity.

Pearls of Wisdom

Arjuna and Krisha

The Bhagavad Gita is considered, unquestionably, one of Eastern spiritual literature’s most profound masterpieces. According to Mahatma Gandhi, The Bhagavad Gita is a spiritual poem with deep philosophy and divinity. There is a wide range of views on the exact time of writing, authorship (traditionally ascribed to the Sage Vyasa), and historical occurrence. Upon reading, these differences in opinion fade from understanding the human mind and relationship to the divine. 

For those preoccupied with such details, they may explore here and beyond. I leave these matters to the scholars and other “experts.” My interest is how the wisdom expressed in The Gita impacts all humankind's lives, any time, anywhere.

From time to time, I will post excerpts from The Gita, as translated by Eknath Easwaran. In his words, “The Gita’s subject is ‘the war within,’ the struggle for self-mastery that every human being must wage if he or she is to emerge from life victorious, and that ‘The language of battle is often found in the scriptures, for it conveys the strenuous, long, drawn-out campaign we must wage to free ourselves from the tyranny of the ego, the cause of all our suffering and sorrow.’”

The setting of The Gita in a battlefield has been interpreted as an allegory for the ethical and moral struggles of human life.

“In profound meditation, they (e.g., the ancients) found, when consciousness is so acutely focused that it is utterly withdrawn from the body and mind, it enters a kind of singularity (Throughout Eastern spirituality this is known as Samadhi) in which the sense of a separate ego disappears. In this state, the supreme climax of meditation, the seers discovered a core of consciousness beyond time and change. They called it simply Atman, the Self.”

The Four Horses of Zen

In the Samyutta Agama sutra, the Buddha told a parable of four horses. There is an excellent one, a couple of lesser horses and a bad one. He said the best horse runs before it sees the shadow of the whip.  The second best will run just before the whip reaches his skin. The third one will run when it feels pain on his body, and the “bad” one will run after the pain penetrates into the marrow of his bones.

I was an unfortunate and stubborn horse, a glutton for punishment, as the saying goes. My ego was huge, and it took a long time and much beating before I was broken. Zen has many aphorisms. One fits this beating process. The saying is, “No suffering. No enlightenment. Little suffering. Little enlightenment. Great suffering. Great enlightenment.” 

The point of this aphorism is that there is a relationship between the depths of suffering and motivation. We, humans, are problem solvers par excellence, but we are also pragmatists with big egos. If we don’t acknowledge problems, there seems nothing to solve, and we don’t fix things we think are not broken. Our egos hate this idea of brokenness, but it’s the key that unlocks the mystery of awakening. Winston Churchill apparently said of Americans, “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing—after they’ve tried everything else.” 

Bodhidharma said that without suffering, there is no awakening, and he is quite right. When life is sailing along, and all is rosy, why bother fixing what’s not broken? In such a state, the last thing we want is to rock the boat and “see the shadow of the whip.” All of us want to preserve the good and avoid the bad, and while life is good, who needs to think about everything turning south? We’re not so wise in such moments. We imagine our state of prosperity will last forever and, consequently, rarely plan for the rainy day. Instead, we wait until we’re underwater and hoping for the Queen Mary to come sailing along.

In psychological terms, we are swayed by what’s known as The Normalcy Bias. We get used to what we assume are fixed norms and resist change. This is a particular problem in our world today and has led us all into political tribes, unwilling to even listen to others. 

The problem is, everything is in a state of change, norms included. A wise person will acknowledge change, learn about pulling up anchors, sense approaching tsunamis, and riding waves. Few of us have the foresight to anticipate coming catastrophes, but the truth is physical life doesn’t last forever. Sooner or later, we all end up broken and become fertilizer. By then, the opportunity to awaken this time around is gone.

Already, not yet

The culmination of every spiritual journey is the realization of completion and unity. Many religions claim we are incomplete and must find the road to a far distant heavenly home. 

Johnny Cash made famous the song In the by and by there’ll be pie in the sky, meaning there will be a reward waiting for us in heaven if we do God’s will here on earth. Because we imagine incompletion we seek completion. Because we misunderstand our source and ourselves, we desire fulfillment even though we are from beginning to the end already full. Our cup runs over with goodness and we remain thirsty for what is already ours.

Acceptance of the already and not yet is a seeming paradox. How can both be true at the same time? The answer as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin pointed out, is, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” Our true nature is spiritual, complete and there is nowhere to go. Our mortal nature is phenomenal, in a process, and we search for the already. We are like the man who looks through lenses, searching for the eyeglasses that sit upon his nose.

It was Zen Master Huang Po who expressed the doctrine of One Mind: “All the Buddhas and all sentient beings are nothing but the One Mind, beside which nothing exists. This Mind, which is without beginning: is unborn and indestructible. It is not green nor yellow and has neither form nor appearance. It does not belong to the categories of things which exist or do not exist, nor can it be thought of in terms of new or old. It is neither long nor short, big nor small, for it  transcends all limits, measures, names, traces, and comparisons.”

Thus the idea of mind over matter is absurd. The mind is the matter in the exact same way that Emptiness is form (The Heart of Perfect Wisdom Sūtra). Every atom of our material body is nothing other than the perfect integration of the One Mind and looking elsewhere for what is already ours is a fools journey.

The parable of the Prodigal Son is a story that reveals this truth.  The message of the Prodigal is the same as contained in the Song of Zazen written by one of the Zen giants (17th-century Hakuin Ekaku). Here are his words: 

“How near the truth, yet how far we seek. Like one in water crying, ‘I thirst!’ Like the son of a rich man wandering poor on this earth we endlessly circle the six worlds. The cause of our sorrow is ego delusion.”  

What can be seen blinds us and keeps us ignorant of what is unseen. So, on the one hand, we are deceived by the conditional, discriminate nature of what we can perceive and on the other hand, our true nature is unconditionally indiscriminate, ineffable but full. And out of our sense of incompletion, we are consumed by desire, not realizing that we already possess what we seek.

The noble winning poet Rabindranath Tagore captured the journey beautifully when he wrote, “The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.” 

So on this spring day, reflect on the labor of your life. Are you laboring for becoming complete? Or are you laboring to accept your never-ending completion? It makes a difference.

Where’s your mind?

Where is it?

A few days ago, I started this series of posts with a challenge: to find your mind, and since then, I have led you through a new way of seeing. Tomorrow I’ll conclude this series by sharing the Buddhist perspective of what the mind produces. 

But today, we’ll consider a unique way of understanding your mind. But when this unique way is understood, it explains why we are so oriented toward hostility, violence, and alienation. The ordinary view is that the mind is a private and individual matter somehow associated with what resides between our ears. 

My thoughts are unique to me, and your views are unique to you. From that perspective, difference is the norm. Consequently, opposition is typical, expected, and one ideology stands counter to another. One of us must be right, and that means the “other” must be wrong. But which one is correct? Both of us believe we are right, and neither of us thinks we are wrong, and this model of mind-in-the-head opposition is the commonly accepted view.

The Buddhist view is laid out in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra by the telling of a story, which concerns Ananda (first cousin of The Buddha). Ananda fell under a spell of a prostitute and subsequently is taught by his cousin, The Buddha, about why he fell. The teaching unfolds with The Buddha challenging Ananda to locate his mind. First, Ananda says, like the vast majority of the human race, that his mind is in his head. The Buddha shoots that notion down with an argument that can’t be overturned. Ananda then tries one answer after another, and each time, The Buddha shoots these down as well. In the end, Ananda never answers correctly, and the teaching of the Sutra is that the mind can neither be located nor found since everything perceptible is the not-to-be-found-or-divided mind.

In conjunction with the principle that no individual, uniquely special self exists, this view means that we all live within the commonly shared space of the real mind. This is no different from a quote I shared in a previous post (The road to an imaginary nowhere) spoken by Jesus. In the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas, Jesus is quoted as having said: 

“If those who lead you say unto you: behold, the Kingdom is in heaven, then the birds of the heaven will be before you. If they say unto you: it is in the sea, then the fish will be before you. But the Kingdom is within you, and it is outside of you. When you know yourselves, then shall you be known, and you shall know that you are the sons of the living Father. But if you do not know yourselves, then you are in poverty, and you are poverty.” 

It might be said that we are all virtual beings living in a virtual world, and consequently, it is not possible to indeed be in opposition to one another since we are all one. The opposition we to which cling as right is based on a false perception that we are separated and apart. What we see is a reflection of our mirror mind. It looks real, but we fail to realize that we are in the mirror—all reflections instead of reflected reality. We are like fish swimming through the sea of mind without knowing that there is such a thing as water. We are already in the kingdom. There is nowhere to go except for the sea.

Mirror, mirror on the wall who’s the fairest one of all?

In a mirror, everything is reversed and all that can be seen is a reflection of something. What is right out here is left in there. Reality and an image are reversed and all that can be seen is a reflection of something. We can’t reach into a mirror and pull out anything real, but what we see looks very real. 

What seems incomprehensible is that we have a mirror in us and like any other mirror, everything is a reflection of something real but only discernible as an image.

In our mind’s eye, we see an image of ourselves, and we call that image a “self-image.” It’s a product of our unseen mind. But since this image occurs in our mirror it is reversed and we take it to be real. Our ego is who we imagine our self to be and in our estimation, we are the fairest one of all. But in a mirror what we see as the fairest is reversed. In truth, our ego is our worst enemy. 

Our ego is greedy, vain, vengeful, vindictive, vulnerable, defensive and willing to do anything, however awful to fend off perceived threats. And all the while the real us lies hidden beneath these illusions waiting to be unveiled. 

Our mind is like an iceberg: The visible and tiny tip (ego mind) and what lies at the vast depths of us all is our true, and unseen mind without limits. The real us lies on the other side of that inner mirror and the qualities of the ego are reversed. Whereas our imaginary self is greedy, vain, ignorant, vengeful and possessive, the real us is complete, humble, kind, wise and compassionate, but the real us has no identifying characteristics.

Every means of perception functions internally. There is no such thing as external perception. Perception by every means occurs in our brain and is a reflection, but not the real thing being perceived. In truth, the entire universe exists only as images reflected in our brains. There is no perception of a self, no perception of a being, no perception of a soul and no perception of a person because a perception is only an image, a reflected projection that occurs in our brain. 

We are real and not real at the same time. The images are unreal. Our reality is unseen. The images we see and take to be real are actually just perceptions. The reality upon which these images are based can never be directly accessed, yet we are here. Hermann Hesse, the author of Siddhartha, rightfully stated: 

“There’s no reality except the one contained within us. That’s why so many people live an unreal life. They take images outside them for reality and never allow the world within them to assert itself.” 

We live within the sea of unreality, which we understand as reality and never question this process.

An imagined you.

Do you have any idea who you are? Begin with this simple understanding: An idea is a mental image, otherwise known as a thought. When you imagine yourself you form an image. It may be a composite image constructed with many parts such as your standing vis-à-vis others, the values you hold dear, or just about any other contribution. But in the end, you have an idea about yourself, which you assume constitutes your being.

This process forces the matter of selfhood. Are you the result of this process—a composite image (a self-image)? Or are you the one who conjures up this image? If the former then you are in constant motion with continuously changing vagaries. In other words there is no permanent you, instead, you remain vulnerable and never at ease (e.g. dis-ease). On the other hand, consider the possibility that the real you is not, and has never been any sort of image but is rather the never-changing and constantly present, ineffable imaginer: The one doing the imaging that can never, ever be imagined.

In today’s world, we have a different name for a self-image. It goes by the name “ego” which if researched means “I” as when we say things like “I am a special being” (of some sort). And this ego understands itself as being uniquely different, special and in conflict with every other ego. It’s a world of me against you and if I am to win, you must lose.

Now this other entity, the imaginer, has no defining characteristics. If it did then it would be constrained to some characteristics but not others. One characteristic only has meaning when understood against some other characteristic such as up vs. non-up (otherwise known as down). Can anything be both at the same time? Our ordinary answer to that questions is no due to meaning and understanding, which is to say that everything can only be understood and have meaning when compared to something else: thus discrimination and discernment.

But how about this: My imagination is the same as your imagination and neither of these can be understood, just recognized as the wellspring of every thought and image. The imagination has one purpose only: to imagine. And the imagination has no limits or forms of difference. In truth, the imaginer is exactly the same from one person to another. We are all just a commonly shared mind without limit or constraining dimension.

Think about that! Better yet, don’t think about that. Just recognize this: You and I are the same non-thing, without limit.

Who do you think you are?

By now you see the difference between a thought about things and the reality of things. One is abstract and the other isn’t, and the “isn’t” can’t be described. 

So who do you think you are? Are you an abstraction that can be described or a reality that can’t? And the truth is an abstraction has no power to do anything. An abstraction is unreal and wholly conceptual. Our real personhood is beyond thought because it is real, but it too can’t be found. But we think we can be found. When we look in a mirror, we see our image there. But who is seeing that image there? 

Is an image the same thing as the one doing the seeing? Is your car the same thing as the manufacturing facility? Are you the same thing as your source? And are you 100% sure the mirror is “out there” reflecting an image of you? Or is the mirror “in here” reflecting an image of an image of you? What’s the difference between “out there” and “in here”? Are you a thought image? What’s the difference between thinking and knowing? Give these questions some serious thought, or better yet begin to notice the limitations of rational thought. And then come back tomorrow as we go into the looking glass— the human mind that can’t be found.

The real deal.

Over the years that I’ve been poking here and there, examining a host of religious and spiritual paths, I’ve noticed that from the perspective of each and every discipline, the adherents nearly without exception claimed that their chosen discipline alone was the truth at the exclusion of others.

And another unavoidable observation was (and is) that each adherent could quote chapter and verse from their holy texts to support their claims but revealed their ignorance by claiming to likewise know about other disciplines. Apparently, they differed with Mark Twain when he said, “The easy confidence with which I know another man’s religion is folly, teaches me to suspect my own.”

These observations cast doubt over the entire lot and motivated me to dig deeper into various disciplines to avoid the same error. I may be a fool, but at least I try to keep it to myself. I agree with Mark Twain, who also said, “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”

I would be the first to admit that I don’t know in depth about all spiritual and/or religious paths, but I do know about mystical paths (particularly Zen and Gnostic Christianity) as well as the orthodox version of Christianity. I can make that statement, without apology, since I have a formal degree in Theology from one of the finest seminaries in the world and have been practicing, as well as studying, Zen for more than 40 years at this late stage in my life.

I must confess that I get a bit testy when someone, after spending at most a few minutes with Google, claims to know what has taken me many years to understand. And what annoys me even more is when a pastor, rabbi, guru, or other religious figures (who should know better) claims knowledge of matters they know nothing about yet makes unfounded claims and leads their “flock” into ignorance, either intentionally or not.

Now let me address what I said I would do some time ago: differentiate Zen from religions (particularly Buddhism) and I must start with an acceptable definition of religion. The broadly accepted definition is: “A communal structure for enabling coherent beliefs focusing on a system of thought which defines the supernatural, the sacred, the divine or of the highest truth.” 

And the key part of that definition that is pertinent to my discussion here is, …a system of thought… While it may seem peculiar to the average person, Zen is the antithesis of …a system of thought… because Zen, by design, is transcendent to thinking, and plunges to the foundation of all thought: the human mind. 

And in that sense it is pointless to have an argument with anyone about this, rooted in thinking. That’s point # 1. Point # 2 is that Zen, as a spiritual discipline, predates The Buddha (responsible for establishing Buddhism's religion ) by many thousands of years. The best estimate, based on solid academic study, is that the earliest record of dhyāna (the Sanskrit name for Zen) is found around 7,000 years ago, whereas the Buddha lived approximately 2,500 years ago. The Buddha employed dhyāna to realize his own enlightenment, and dhyāna remains one of the steps in his Eight Fold Path designed to attain awakening. Thus, pin Zen to Buddhism's tree is very much akin to saying that prayer is exclusive to Christianity and is a branch of that religion's tree.

While it is stimulating and somewhat educational to engage in discussions regarding various spiritual and/or religious paths, the fact is we have no choice except to tell each other lies or partial truths. Words alone are just that: lies or partial truths concerning ineffable matters. That point has been a tenant of Zen virtually since the beginning. Not only is this true of Zen, but it is also true of all religious and spiritual paths. 

Lao Tzu was quite right: “The Way cannot be told. The Name cannot be named. The nameless is the Way of Heaven and Earth. The named is Matrix of the Myriad Creatures. Eliminate desire to find the Way. Embrace desire to know the Creature. The two are identical, but differ in name as they arise. Identical they are called mysterious, mystery on mystery: the gate of many secrets.” 

In the end, none of us has any other choice except to employ illusion to point us to a place beyond illusion. I leave this post with two quotes, one from Mark Twain and the other from Plato. First Twain: “Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.” And then Plato: “Those who are able to see beyond the shadows of their culture will never be understood, let alone believed, by the masses.”  

When I make statements, I know that I am telling partial truths, and I am stupid to argue. It makes both of us more stupid. That’s the real deal and should make us all a bit more humble and less sure that our truth alone is the only one.

The Man in the moon

I have a habit each evening of sitting on our deck after dinner, feeling the gentle evening air and watching the phases of the moon. 

Once every month, the moon reaches fullness, and every time it comes, we can see the man in the moon. Oh, I know: there really isn’t a man in the moon, and you likewise know there isn’t. We’re sophisticated people and live in a sophisticated time. Scientific tools and methods have been with us all of our life. So we know what people who lived long ago didn’t know, and chuckle when we think how deluded they were.

Did you know that many “sophisticated people” in earlier times were convinced that there really was a man in the moon? Some people said that the man was banished to the moon for some crime. Christian lore commonly held that he was the man caught gathering sticks on the Sabbath and sentenced by God to death by stoning in the book of Numbers. Some Germanic cultures thought he was a man caught stealing from a neighbor’s hedgerow to repair his own. There is even a Roman legend that he was a sheep thief.

We laugh at such silliness, but are we able to laugh at our own absurdity? Now we say things like “Those people who see things differently from us are not authentic (fill in the blank.)” You could use the label of Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu, atheist or any other birds of a feather. The question isn’t how we label ourselves. The meaningful question is how we don’t label ourselves, but we do love our labels. We wear them like badges of superiority, distinguishing ourselves from others. The famous Christian mystic, Meister Eckhart, said: “Humanity in the poorest and most despised human being is just as complete as in the Pope or the Emperor.” And we know what sort of clothing the Emperor wore—none.

We need to consider the moon, not if there is a man in it. Nobody was born with a label. Nobody will die with a brand. But in between birth and death, we become inordinately concerned with labels and forget about our own authentic human nature. Fundamentally the moon is the moon. Fundamentally a human is a human. If you want to stick a man in the moon, then we can all have a good laugh. We don’t laugh, however when we stick a label on us. Too bad, because that also is a good joke.

The ubiquitous gift.

Some time ago, I wrote a post titled The destination. Far away?. And considered the thought that the ultimate place of peace may be far beyond where we presently stand. For sure, it appears that way. All we have to do is look around to see a growing wasteland of moral degeneration and hostile, polarized alienation.

The Dalai Lama wrote recently, “The paradox of our age is we have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences but less time; more degrees but less sense; more knowledge but less judgment; more experts but more problems; more medicines but less healthfulness; we’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble walking across the street to meet new neighbors; we’ve built more computers to hold more information to produce more copies, but communicate less; we have become long on quantity and short of quality. These are times of fast food but slow digestion; tall men but short character; steep profits but shallow relationships. It’s a time with much in the window but nothing in the room.” 

Step by step, we seem to be drifting further apart and losing our way. We live in a magnificent world with great abundance yet remain insatiable, with perpetual violence. The question is, why? Perhaps the answer is that we lust for a faraway Heaven or fear a Hell too close for comfort. It has been said that religion is for those who fear going to Hell, but spirituality is for those who have already been there.

For most of human history, people of the Western world have understood our ultimate destination as either a Heaven in the sky or a Hell in the bowels at the pit of the earth. Nobody in that long history has ever gone and returned with any convincing evidence to either, so the matter remains a concern of religious belief. However, at least two of the greatest and wisest men to ever exist—Jesus and The Buddha, maintained that Heaven and Hell were the eternal room within which we continuously exist. All of the necessary ingredients for making one or the other are forever in our midst. If this unorthodox yet profound, view is accurate, then it is beyond dispute that our greatest challenge is to make our collective lives into one or the other by what we think and do.

Just for the sake of consideration, imagine that Heaven or Hell is the result of what we think and do, and both are what we create within the eternal presence of our Mind. The Sūraṅgama Sūtra is a fantastic portrait of the already present, omnipresent Mind. And here is what the Buddha wrote about the conundrum of an imagination gone wrong: “...All things in all worlds are the wondrous, fundamental, enlightened, luminous mind that understands, and that this mind, pure, all-pervading, and perfect, contains the entire universe...it is everlasting and does not perish.”

In the commentary on the Diamond Sūtra, Huang-Po said, “Buddhas and beings share the same identical mind. It’s like space: it doesn’t contain anything and isn’t affected by anything. When the great wheel of the sun rises and light fills the whole world, space doesn’t become brighter. When the sun sets, and darkness fills the whole world, space doesn’t become darker. The states of light and darkness alternate and succeed one another, while the nature of space is vast and changeless. The mind of buddhas and beings is like this. Here, The Buddha says to save all beings in order to get rid of the delusion of liberation so that we can see our true nature.” 

If you look at the top of my blog, you’ll read the essence of this thought: Birds and thoughts fly through the sky of mind. When they are gone, we’re left with the sky of wisdom and compassion. The cause of suffering is, quite simply, that we don’t realize that we are already at our destination and will never be anywhere else. We lust for what a never-arriving tomorrow might bring and dwell on a past that lives on only in our imagination. The path forward or backward takes us to exactly where we are, each and every moment. We will never be anywhere else. Everywhere we go, there we are within the universal mind, and it can never be otherwise. The “how-to” answer is not so hard. The hard part is accepting what is and realizing that if we want a Heaven, we need to make one, right where we stand by what we think and do. And the same holds true for Hell.

There are many prescriptions for a methodology of “how-to” (and I could redundantly add my own), but you could follow any and all and still come to the same place. When you awaken, you understand this simple truth: You are already home. All we need to do is open our eyes and accept the greatest gift of all—life, with everything needed to make either Heaven or Hell. If we don’t feel grateful for what we already have, what makes us think we’d be happier with more of the same?