The razors edge.

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” Matthew 7:13-14

Everyone learns about the easy and the hard way. It is easy to follow in the footsteps of friends, associates, and even family members who take shortcuts and chart a course into lives of luxury that seem to assure minimal risk and maximum comfort. It is likewise hard to choose a path less traveled that is awash with adversity, rejection, and leads through that narrow gate to the fullness of life. While blinded by clouds of uncertainty it is common to rush back through the broad gate to familiar but thin relationships. Charting a path through the unknown is what trailblazers have always accepted; it goes with the territory.

That overview easy to say and difficult to sustain. Max Cleland wrote his now-famous Strong at the Broken Places: The story of extraordinary overcoming that emerged from his tragedy. Cleland served in the United States Army during the Vietnam War and attained the rank of Captain. He was awarded the Silver Star and the Bronze Star for valorous action in combat, including during the Battle of Khe Sanh. 

On April 8, 1968, with a month left in his tour, Cleland was ordered to set up a radio relay station on a nearby hill. A helicopter flew him and two soldiers to the treeless top of Hill 471, east of Khe Sanh. When the helicopter landed, Cleland jumped out, followed by the two soldiers. They ducked beneath the rotors and turned to watch the liftoff. Cleland reached down to pick up a grenade he believed had popped off his flak jacket. It exploded and the blast slammed him backward, shredding both legs and one arm. Due to the severity of his injuries, doctors amputated both of Cleland’s legs above the knee and his right forearm. He was 25 years old. That was 48 years ago and I, along with thousands of others who served, have lived with emotional scars that run deep resulting from terrors of war.

What we seem to not understand is that we don’t always choose the narrow path. Often times it is thrust upon us and we have little choice but to struggle to overcome or succumb to the crush of adversity. Dying quickly can be much more attractive than dying inch by inch until there is no more energy or desire left to live. 

The latter may not seem desirable but in truth, the struggle to reach through and beyond the crush is what builds character, empathy, and compassion. No one can pretend to wear another’s clothing of horror and struggle to endure. Each of us must travel this lonely path, whether thrust upon us or not.

It is paradoxical that every parent wants to spare their children hardship and many succeed, yet this often turns out to be a shallow and fruitless accomplishment that leaves young people with a thin illusion of superiority and little compassion or understanding for the plights of the less fortunate. 

How often it seems that people become empathetic only when adversity strikes one of their family members. Then the tables turn suddenly and the plight of others struck in similar fashion registers as a matter that affects them personally. What we have yet to learn is that every human being is someone’s child and they are our child as well. This may not seem evident but no one is an island. We are on earth to learn this vital lesson and more times than not, the path to knowledge runs along the razor’s edge.

Bitterness and Betterness

A friend sent me the meme to the right. I thought about the message and then, in honest reflection, realized something of worth: To move to Betterness without going through Bitterness is not only disingenuous but more than likely impossible. 

We are, after all, humans and rarely react to adversity gladly. That reaction takes some pretty advanced transformation and few indeed are able to get to that place without having first experienced disappointment, anguish, and suffering. Nobody I have ever known (including myself) has ever leaped over these preliminary emotions of sadness as though moving from “A” to “Z” by jumping over “B” through “Y.”

In point of fact, it is precisely the process of anguish that compels transformation. This is a point we often overlook because we think suffering is something we can avoid if we stand on the sidelines while the suffering train leaves the station. No, there is great wisdom inherent in suffering because of this:

“Every suffering is a seed because suffering impels us to seek wisdom.”⎯Bodhidharma

Betterness is the residue of bitterness and we can’t get to betterness by avoiding the bitter pill of suffering. And even once we arrive at a better way, the memory of what led to bitterness remains a compelling force, unless of course, we enjoy suffering.

What the heck is Zen?

Zen?

Tolerance and empathy are two admirable qualities, ignorance is a vast and endemic characteristic of the human condition. It is difficult to remain empathetic and tolerant with people who live in states of denial and ignorance, persuaded they know intimately what they clearly don’t, yet bulwark themselves against becoming educated. 

It’s a test of patience and compassion to relate to such people. Still, it’s probably unrealistic to expect the uneducated and ignorant to suddenly overcome these failings without having an open mind, in all fairness. After all (as pointed out in a recent post), “…people are far less concerned with truth than they were with finding evidence to support their beliefs, true or not.”

Having studied and practiced Zen for more than forty years now, plus having a formal education from one of the foremost theological seminaries in the world, I imagine I know (perhaps mistakenly) what Zen is and is not. 

Recently I decided to pursue a new educational process entailing social media to broaden the reach of Dharma Space. It’s tough sailing for an old dog to learn new tricks, and I’m still in the process. One of the associated tangents of this new quest took me into Reddit: a social networking site that prides itself as “the front page of the internet” yet culls out posting with thought police guarding the front door.

The obvious glitch here is that the Internet (if nothing else) is supposed to be an open medium that promotes communications across the globe, thus stimulating the freedom to distribute and modify creative works in content by using the Internet as the people's voice. Freedom of global communications is not consistent with thought police who know nothing about Zen but nevertheless barred Dharma Space entrance into their club, claiming as justification that Zen is a religion.

The relevant question is thus: Is Zen a religion? So we must return to basics with a definition of religion, which 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.” 

Since Zen’s father (e.g., Bodhidharma) defined Zen as “not thinking,” there is no fit between these two definitions. Many remain ignorant of this misfit but cling to their dogma nevertheless. One of the confusing points is the ordinary way of labeling Zen as “Zen Buddhism.” Since Buddhism is a religion, the supposition is that Zen is a branch of Buddhism’s religious tree. Protestants are a branch of the religious tree of Christianity. 

So what’s the truth of the matter? Now we come to the language problem (as always). The word Zen is a Japanese word. Before Zen moved to Japan, there was China, where it was first known as Chán, which was derived from the Sanskrit word dhyāna (translated as “absorption” or “meditative state.”) The Pāli word was/is Jhāna, the Vietnamese word is Thiền, and Seon in Korean.

Zen encourages everyone to look within for happiness and attainment of the enlightenment of Buddha-Nature. Many renowned and well respected Zen masters did not know how to read or write, yet they gained and taught enlightenment effortlessly. Zen teaches, or rather prods, the mind to look beyond the realm of perception and comprehend universal truth, beginning with the question, “who am I?” And it has two goals: to achieve enlightenment and become a Bodhisattva, or compassionate being, one in mind and spirit so you can become one with the Universe. A Bodhisattva has only this one purpose: To teach universal unity.

The practice of Zen/dhyāna was established as one of the steps on the Eight-Fold Path of the Buddha, but here is the kicker: the term dhyāna is found in recorded history around 7,000 years ago, whereas the Buddha lived approximately 2,500 years ago. I already wrote about this in a post, “The real deal” so, I realize that I’m repeating myself. However, some review is good. 

The Eight-Fold Path’s last three steps are grouped together (package deal) to achieve Samadhi: a spiritual state of consciousness. The last three are Right effort, Right mindfulness (the practice that is now very popular and goes by the handle of MBSR—Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction), and Right concentration (dhyāna), used to suppress the five hindrances to enter into Samadhi. Right concentration (from a Vietnamese perspective) is considered as the fourth jhāna: a stage of “pure equanimity and mindfulness” (upekkhāsatipārisuddhi), without any pleasure or pain, happiness or sadness, and appears in the Mahāparinibbāṇa Sutta. This Sutta has been dated no later than 350-320 BCE, which would allow for a “true historical memory” of the events approximately 60 years before the short chronology for the Buddha’s lifetime (understood more like hagiography than as an exact historical record of events).

Zen is an instrument employed (the same one used by The Buddha) for developing wisdom by cultivating insight to examine the true nature of phenomena with direct cognition. This leads to cutting off delusions, realizing the Dharma, and, finally, self-awakening. The five hindrances/obstacles are (1) Sensory desire, (2) all kinds of thoughts related to wanting to reject feelings of hostility, resentment, hatred, and bitterness, (3) heaviness of body and dullness of mind which drag one down into disabling inertia and thick depression, (4) worry (the inability to calm the mind) and (5) a lack of conviction or trust whereby self-awakening is possible.

I am aware that I am repeating myself and probably boring those who already know this, but ignorance reigns supreme. Besides, I enjoy the improbable task of trying to break through close-mindedness. According to the moderators at Reddit, “Nobody cares.” I would like to believe that humanity still does care about a transformation that could reshape our world into something less than the Hell it’s growing into without this awareness.

Whack-a mole: A fundamental look at life.

The doctor whacking the moles of illness.

“Do easy things before they become too hard.
Difficult problems are best solved while they are easy.
Great projects are best started while they are small.

The Master never takes on more than she can handle,
which means that she leaves nothing undone.
When an affirmation is given too lightly,
keep your eyes open for trouble ahead.
When something seems too easy,
difficulty is hiding in the details.

The master expects great difficulty,
so the task is always easier than planned.”

These words, from Chapter 63 of the Tao Te Ching were written, by the Chinese sage Lao Tzu during the late 4th century BCE. The Tao Te Ching is overflowing with wisdom; some deep and profound and some every-day practical. There are many renditions of this essential notion (e.g., addressing life’s work with efficiency⎯doing what is easy, and recognizing the task will eventually become difficult). 

Others have expressed the same thought in slightly different ways, such as “Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today.”⎯Benjamin Franklin; or this from the Bible, “Don’t put it off; do it now! Don’t rest until you do.”⎯Proverbs 6:4. True wisdom doesn’t change but ways of expression do, making it more applicable to contemporary challenges. To illustrate this evolving notion I’ve chosen to cast Lao Tzu’s wisdom into the modern game of Whack-a mole.

So let’s layout the game and the adaptation. The game involves whacking a make-believe mole with a hammer so that he is knocked underground. But when he is whacked he just pops up again out of another hole. The challenge is to keep the mole underground as much as possible in a given period of time. That’s the game.

Now the adaptation: Pretend the mole represents health. So long as the mole is underground, health is maintained. Coming up through a hole means problems are emerging which require doctor visits. When we are young our physical nature is more vibrant and becomes less so as we age. In the adapted game, the number of holes through which the mole can emerge increases as we age thus requiring more visits to different doctors, who then “whack” the problem, driving the mole beneath the surface, where “health” exists. But doctors not only solve problems they create them, which necessitates visits to other doctors who do the same thing. I think you may see the analogy between the game and life.

While we’re young, health can be maintained much easier, by taking care of ourselves. But alas, when we are young we think we’ll live forever and besides health is more vibrant. If we do exercise wisdom, then we will have complied with the wisdom of Lao Tzu. If not then problems begin to multiply and cascade as we age, which then requires more doctor visits (more holes from which the mole can emerge), and, oh by the way, as we age we have less energy to fight off the problems of aging, which in many cases becomes the challenge of life. Eventually, the lack of energy results from not doing the easy while we are young and consequently, as aging advances we become consumed with the difficult⎯too many holes, moles, and trips with our heads exposed above ground for doctors to whack.

Of course we could adhere to the Mark Twain version and “Never put off till tomorrow what may be done day after tomorrow just as well,” in which case we won’t need to be concerned about difficult tomorrows since tomorrow will come anyway with more moles, more holes and a lot more whacking doctors!

A call to arms!

The world wants you.

With what’s happening now in the U.S. I think it’s time to repost a message I wrote a while back. This post is not going to be one of cozy satisfaction or insular “I’ve got mine, get your own.” No, instead it is going to be one of those, “I’m mad as Hell and I’m not going to take this anymore” posts. 

If you haven’t yet noticed, the world in which we live is quite literally going to Hell in a handbasket, and fast. 

• The entire Middle East is a blazing inferno, causing immigrations so massive as to resemble rats fleeing a burning ship; 

• Our nation has gone from the most admired in the world to a miserable excuse of squawking catfights, immobilized by the dogmas of inflexible, political ideologues who’ve been sold to the highest bidder. And we routinely cast aside allies that took years of blood, sweat, and tears to create; 

• Religious bigotry and blame continue to sprout their self-righteous ugliness; 

• Wars have now become routine, perpetuated by the same people who whine about a balanced budget, and unthinkingly slash support for the very people who risked all to defend our way of life, yet give no consideration for the fact that waging war is the most costly human endeavor there is. At the same time Congress is establishing economic policies of slashing and burning institutions that took decades to build; 

• Violence everywhere is sky-rocketing and causing massive tides of immigrants to flee to temporary havens (one of which used to be us, but we are now rounding up and caging them, with no foresight given to their value); 

• Diseases (long considered to be eradicated) are returning and joining pandemic plagues with the potential to kill us all; 

• The gap between the super-wealthy and the burgeoning poor is becoming ever wider (worldwide); 

• Those who could or would care for the less fortunate have stopped; 

• We incarcerate more people in the U.S. than any other nation on earth, and there are more guns in the hands of “ordinary citizens” here who slaughter more ordinary citizens each week than all those killed in the Afghanistan and Iraq wars put together, yet mouth banalities that guns don’t kill people; 

• And worst of all the climate is getting hotter, whole regions of our country are experiencing environmental meltdown and becoming more unstable and threatening every moment of every day…on and on.

I’ve been writing this blog for eight years now with messages that are admittedly inadequate but are intended to accomplish one single thing: promote peace, unity and brotherhood. I have done so under the rubric of Zen because that is what saved my life, changed my perspectives from greed to gratitude and implanted genuine compassion in my heart. And do you want to know what I’ve experienced over those eight years? Two things of significance: an audience that grew from nothing to nearly 100,000 readers worldwide and the continuation of small-minded, self-righteous nitpicking by esoteric experts who express their platitudes yet do nothing themselves to foster unity and peace. Nevertheless they seem to have an abundance of time to criticize me for doing what I can, albeit insufficiently. My patience with, and tolerance of such “head-in-the-sand-do-nothing” people has grown paper thin, and yes, “I’m mad as Hell and I’m not going to take this anymore.” 

Legalists are everywhere: Buddhists castigate me for not being a purist (never mind there is no such thing as a Buddhism but rather different sects who argue amongst themselves just as much as any other religion), Christians demean me for not being in their exclusive flock, atheists reject anything spiritual and Zen folk elevate themselves to the status of being superior to everyone else not like them. 

Nobody seems to embrace the essential spirit, but instead can quote chapter and verse of their own sacred texts. Famous Zen Master Bassui said, “If you truly want to read the sutras, you first have to awaken the mind that does the reading. All formal readings from the sutras can be destructive. The wonderful dharma of one’s mind does not change through successive eons; it is the essence of all the sutras.” 

Perhaps if people who think to themselves, as I used to, (“Oh I know so little or can not do very much”) would just support and encourage those who are trying to make a difference (instead of sniping) we would live in a much better world. If only a small number of those 100,000 would merely forward on messages of hope and peace it would make a huge difference. The world is burning, act now, or be prepared to roast along with everyone else (me included). 

Undoubtedly I’ll lose a few readers with this post but that’s okay. Obviously, my critique doesn’t apply to everyone. There are many dedicated, people striving to be selfless servants and attempting to make our world a better place. You know who you are and I greatly admire you. I would suggest you watch this and then do some serious reflection.

Finger pointing at the moon

Anyone even slightly familiar with Zen knows this metaphor of a finger pointing at the moon. And of course, the meaning of the metaphor is there’s a difference between a teaching and the meaning of what’s being taught. 

So what’s the teaching? To answer that question leads us to Nagarjuna and his “Two Truth Doctrine.” What he taught is the difference between two truths—the conventional and the ultimate. He said that we must, by necessity, use the finger of conventional truth to fathom the moon of ultimate truth. Conventional means are words and other communication methods and the ultimate can’t be framed because it is beyond the form of any kind. Nevertheless, without words (which are admittedly abstract reflections), there is no way of communicating about sublime truths beyond words.

The second part of his teaching (the most important part) is that while we must discern these two truths conventionally unless we experience the ultimate, we will never be free. Instead, we will remain lost in the sea of conventional abstraction yet firmly persuaded the reflection is the moon. In The Sutra of Complete Enlightenment, Ch’an Master Sheng-yen says that we must use illusion to destroy the illusion, which is just a different way of speaking about Nagarjuna’s two truths. The enlightenment of the moon is ever-present and we become aware through reflections.

The entirety of all of my posts is a mere finger pointing to a moon beyond words. They are reflections shimmering on the surface of a rippling pool of water.

Duplicity?

Our two aspects of good and evil.

All of us are, unintentionally, duplicitous. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn suggested there is good and evil in everyone, and proposed the only way to separate the two was by drawing a line—on one side would be all the good people and on the other, all of the evil. He said, in that case, the line would go down the center of us all. His specific quote was, “The battle-line between good and evil runs through the heart of every man.” 

This wisdom is without question true. There is both good and evil in everyone. The Lankavatara Sutra (a Mahayana favorite of Bodhidharma) addressed the issue of one vs. another with this: 

“In this world whose nature is like a dream, there is a place for praise and blame, but in the ultimate Reality of Dharmakāya (our true primordial mind of wisdom) which is far beyond the senses and the discriminating mind, what is there to praise?” 

The Dharmakāya goes by various names, all of which are meager attempts at defining our ineffable nature. An alternate handle (perhaps more familiar) is indiscriminate, unconditional non-applied consciousness: The realm of ultimate reality, and the womb of The Buddha. That is the core of us all that “…is far beyond the senses and the discriminating mind.” Here there is neither good nor evil since that realm is unconditional.

“Buddhas say emptiness is relinquishing opinions. Believers in emptiness are incurable.”—Nagarjuna

We live, however,  in a conditional world where there is plenty of judgment of good vs. evil. The root may be hidden but the branches are not, and praise and blame flourish. It is only when we awaken to this truth that we understand the difference between the two. The notion of dependent origination/relativity is the natural manifestation of emptiness (Śūnyatā: emptiness, another name for the Dharmakāya), which states that nothing contains intrinsic substance. 

Instead, reality exists in two, inseparable aspects at once. Nagarjuna labeled these aspects “conventional” and the “ultimate.” His understanding was laid out in his “Two Truth Doctrine,” where he taught the difference between the two. He said that we must, by necessity, use the conditional/conventional truth to fathom ultimate truth. 

Conventional means are words and other communication methods and the ultimate can’t be framed because it is beyond form of any kind. Nevertheless, without words (which are admittedly abstract reflections), there is no way of communicating about ultimate truths beyond words. That is what takes place every time I make a post: I speak about matters beyond words and form

The second and most important part of his teaching is that while we must discern these two truths conventionally unless we experience the ultimate, we will never be set free. Instead, we will remain lost in the sea of conventional abstraction yet firmly persuaded that there is nothing beyond “the senses and the discriminating mind.”

Having defined these two aspects there is a danger of dogmatism, which the Buddha warned against with his teaching on expedient means—upaya-Kausalya: Actions measured and dictated by unfolding and unanticipated circumstances. Here Voltaire and Nagarjuna are in agreement: 

“Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.”—Voltaire

The key to a meaningful life is to hold these two aspects of reality in balance and most importantly to act “as if” your neighbor were your Self, with kindness and empathy, most particularly when it seems difficult.

Who stands before me?

One of the most profound stories concerning Bodhidharma, the figure who is credited as the originator of Zen, occurred in China during the 6th century CE during a conversation with Emperor Wu. The Emperor had invested himself in many ways to promote Buddhism and thus felt deserving of special merit. He said to Bodhidharma, “I have built many temples, copied innumerable Sutras, and ordained many monks since becoming Emperor. Therefore, I ask you what is my merit?” 

At the level of vast emptiness, there is nothing special, or the opposite: Specialness. In response, Bodhidharma replied: “None whatsoever!” Emperor Wu then responded with, “What then is the most important principle of Buddhism?” Bodhidharma answered: “Vast emptiness. Nothing sacred.” Shocked by his answer, the Emperor then said, “Who is this that stands before me?” Bodhidharma: answered, “I don’t know.”

Without a doubt, to students new to the practice of Zen, this story must seem bizarre. How on earth could such apparent ignorance, expressed by the founder of Zen, be considered profound? To sweep away the cloud that covers over the significance, we must explore a common dimension of human nature: The desire to be somebody special, and the corresponding quest to be involved in doing something we all consider important that moves us toward that goal of specialness. 

So long as we are not doing whatever it may be we consider as important, the more guilt we feel. For many, we begin in childhood with feelings of inadequacy. Some people are so consumed with “doing” they become obsessive-compulsive, doing the same thing over and over to experience some relief. The rest of us, at the very least, feel uncomfortable thinking that we are wasting valuable time by not doing something.

Two points: Who is consumed with this desire? And what’s the difference between “being” and “doing?” Let me address the second point first: The issue of beingness which concerned Bodhidharma’s unknowing. He seemed to be saying he didn’t know himself, and if anything is central to Zen it is the unveiling of our true nature. You really can’t understand this issue without the other part of his answer: “Vast emptiness. Nothing sacred.”

Instead, there is nothing whatsoever, yet within emptiness, is completion. That state of mind is the base upon which everything we do is based. Without “beingness” it is impossible for “doing-ness” to exist, thus the catchphrase, “Be here now.” We have been so conditioned to think that just being without the expression of acting in some way toward our goal, is to be considered as a useless bum. 

There is special significance in being present—fully present in the moment, but the question is “who is being present?” The knee-jerk (and unexamined answer) is, “Me.” But this me can be expressed, both in many definable terms (e.g., The ego, which is mere clothing upon a mannequin, changing moment by moment, depending on changing circumstances), or the indefinable true person that we are, neither special nor not.

So then we come to the first point of the “Who,” to which Bodhidharma answered, “I don’t know.” Why does that make sense, whether we know it or not? It makes sense simply because emptiness—the realm of completion and the lack, is the same realm lacking definition. Nobody, not even a Buddha can define what is essentially indefinable except to note the obvious: doing and being are essential partners. 

If this is the case, how are we to know, not only ourselves but also other people? The Buddha himself pointed to the answer with his statement in the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra when he said, “Seeing the actions of body and mouth, we say that we see the mind. The mind is not seen, but this is not false. This is seeing by outer signs.” In other words, we not only know who we are, but we also know who others are, not just by what is said but by how actions speak louder than words alone. Our words and actions together define the person that stands before us all.

Thoughts on Self Nature.

Over the years, having read, studied, and experienced the voice of enlightened people and considering my own, I have attempted to capture, with words, the essential nature of humanity and the opposite: Our corrupted nature. 

The latter has produced an eternity of evil and destruction globally, while the former has countered evil with goodness. I have personally experienced the transformation of self-destructive thoughts, words, and deeds into genuine benevolence. I have likewise witnessed the attempt to feign piety that clearly stood as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. People of the world seem to know that transparent evil is undesirable, and consequently, they try to conceal the heart of darkness with a camouflage of pretended allure. 

This effort, like the opposite of transparency, is affirmed by those who, similarly, play the same game. The pretenders flock together, as do those who choose to reveal a purity of heart, having nothing to hide. These two forces oppose one another and speak a different language.

But God would not allow me such relief, but instead brought back to me the more excellent relief of that magnificent young lady in the dawning of adulthood. It was then I found my true nature of completion and realized, contrary to what I had come to believe, that I was the essence of internal love that she alone had seen in me a half-century before. It was unquestionably a miracle and so clearly the act of a loving God that it was unavoidable to not see what had been there all along, but lay hidden beneath that sense of self-hatred. “Then I knew fully, even as I am fully known,” and at last, I came to understand the mature language of the heart that joined my heart with hers around the core of a unified, indwelling presence of God.

It has been my experience that the language of love, compassion, and tenderness is impossible to articulate with words. In contrast, the language of pretense and deception comes in convincing forms more difficult to detect, except to those who, by nature, have passed beyond words and found their true self-nature. To the former, the task is one of mime. To the latter, the charge comes naturally. The communication challenge for humanity is to find a way to bridge that gap to inspire the minds of those still lost, to a higher standard beyond these surrogates of truth, much like a teacher with advanced education and knowledge must employ with children, not yet schooled. 

Having once been an unschooled child, a teacher knows both the language of a child and the language of the heart. The opposite is not valid. It is as the Apostle Paul stated in the 13th chapter of 1st Corinthians, 

“…where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now, we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” 

Paul’s words, in essence,  are the same as the words of Meister Eckhart, the German theologian and philosopher who lived during the 15th century: “The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me.”

While still a child having little maturity and life experience, lost to the voice of others, I defined myself as incomplete and worthless according to the opinions of those who appeared to hate me, for reasons I failed to understand. The result was I conformed to unworthiness and attempted the impossible of persuading both myself and those who’s voice I valued, that I was worthy of their affection and love. In essence, I did not love myself because I placed more value or their opinions than on my inherent completeness.

It took many years for this self-deception to fully ripen into the unnatural result of pure self-hatred, so thorough that I found no reason to continue living. The only contradiction to this perceived sense of self-hate was the pure, unselfish love that poured out of a magnificent young lady in the dawning of adult life. And that love, where our hearts beat as one, was lost to my own naïve and innocent error, thus driving the stake of self-hatred and associated guilt even deeper. 

The ensuing suffering I then experienced continued up the birth of my daughter, who seemed to come as a gift from God to show me through experience how to recapture selfless love again. For 20 years she, and I grew together within the realm of unconditional love, and when she was gone, I returned once again to the hell of self-hatred left with the whisper of the lost love of both my first love and my daughter. Again, I found no reason to continue living, sought the ultimate release, and readied myself for bodily death.

At long last, I understand the meaning of selfless love. It does not mean to sacrifice and give up what is of value. It means instead to lose the sense of an artificial and perverted self, shaped by the opinions of others and affirmed by my desire to be loved, to cast off the unreal that hid the real. By losing the artificial, I found the truth. And this true self-nature is united as a single purity of heart, not only with my first love and my daughter but with the breadth of humanity. 

True love needs no interpretation or indirect translation thru the medium of words. It is pure, recognizable, and when my eyes finally opened, I knew what I had previously known only in part. Then, at last, I experienced what Eckhart had said, “The eye with which God sees me is the same eye by which I see God.” Or, as the native Indians have said, “Before we can truly understand another person, we must walk a mile in their moccasins. Before we can walk in another person’s moccasins, we must first take off our own.” 

The old self-hatred had to fall away before I could see the new Self-love, and when it did, I came to know that the ideas I had previously held of myself as a false self, alienated from others, unveiled a true Self that united with God and the world. 

Thus selfless love is a love that loses the artificial and is replaced with the real. Selfless love is Self-full love that echoes, in a circular fashion from one heart to another. What goes forth comes from within. Which in itself is already joined with a passion that indwells the heart of another. And when that happens, there is no separation between your true self and the true self of another. That, to me, is the definition of genuine compassion: to experience the love and agony of your beloved, and they of you. You become echoes of each other, and your hearts beat as one.

Knowing not.

Our hidden roots

Knowing not? Why not say “not knowing?” The first suggests it is possible to fathom nothing, whereas the second implies we don’t have a clue.

If I were to conjure up a list of Buddhist giants, my list would certainly include The Buddha, Nagarjuna, and Bodhidharma. The Buddha started what we know today as Buddhism, which of course is as misleading as it is to say Jesus started Christianity, or Moses starting Judaism. In the ordinary, all-encompassing fashion, these people began movements that today are fractured into many different sects, none of which can possibly represent the entirety of the main body. It’s much like a tree with roots beneath the ground emanating into a trunk with many branches above ground. Rarely do we concern ourselves with the unseen roots—only one of the branches.

Often times we learn valuable lessons by way of myths about these Buddhist giants. We can’t even say for sure if, for instance, that Bodhidharma actually existed, but the tales of his life (true or not) are extremely valuable to our ordinary lives, sometimes in unexpected ways. To most people, such tales seem arcane or meaningless just as this “knowing not” may appear at first glance.

One of the tales about Bodhidharma concerns his meeting with Emperor Wu of the Chinese Liang Dynasty during the 5th century. The emperor had built many Buddhist monuments when he met Bodhidharma and expected to receive an equal number of accolades from Bodhidharma. Instead, Bodhidharma told the emperor none of his work deserved any merit at all. Why? Because Bodhidharma was expressing a fundamental truth: All of the mortal life is fleeting. It comes and it goes. Nothing temporal has lasting value.

The emperor was quite perturbed and in a huff asked two questions of Bodhidharma and got two more unexpected answers. First, he asked, “What is the first principle of the holy teachings?” “Bodhidharma replied, ‘Vast emptiness, nothing holy.’” Then the emperor asked, “Who is standing before me?” Bodhidharma said, “I don’t know.”

“Vast emptiness, nothing holy,” and “I don’t know.” Knowing not, or not knowing? In a curious way, the answers Bodhidharma gave are the same, even though they seem very different. How so? How about we make some word substitutes and instead of using the word “emptiness” we use the word “unconditional.” Would that clarify matters? It might except for this word “vast.” And this “nothing holy” might just as well be called “nothing unholy,” since without conditions neither holy nor unholy has any meaning—emptiness/unconditional can’t be articulated just as none of us can really define our inherent true nature. 

That too is “knowing not.” Only this “not,” while being incomprehensible, can only be experienced, never articulated. What we think we know of ourselves is a shadow: an unreal mirage which we call “ego,” and an ego appears to us as what we think of ourselves. It is a perceptible fabrication that is very convincing, and being perceptible gives us a clue. To observe or perceive anything requires one who perceives, yet is in itself imperceptible, without form or any dimension conceivable. Yet it must exist or nothing could be perceived, just like a blind man, without vision, can never see anything objectively delineated.

Unfortunately, our ego is the source of all suffering. This imaginary non-being is, as Zen Master  Hakuin Ekaku said, “The cause of our sorrow is ego delusion.” It is a mask that hides our true nature, which is pure, complete, joyous, and beyond suffering. In truth, all of us are in a state of knowing not and the only way to vanquish suffering is to penetrate through the mask that blinds us. How to? The answer is here.