The Devil and Bodhidharma

I ran into a Zen axe-grinder on Twitter a few months ago. The experience continues to turn in my thoughts.

I didn't know this guy (I believe he was a guy; if not, my bad) but several sangha there – most of them fellow hermits – did. They just snorted when he turned up again and had little else to do with him. I initially engaged, in good eremitical faith, until he got personal – which happened quickly – and then I ignored him, too.

My brother's holy crusade had something to do with "one true path", of course, as well as a claimed apostasy of Japanese Zen in general, the crystal purity of early Chàn, and a perpetual tantrum over anyone practicing outside the narrow confines he considered "real". A major focus of his rage – and this will surprise no-one who's met the type – was a purported episode that supposedly derailed authentic Zen a thousand or more years ago, allowing evil conspirators to substitute not-Zen in its place ever since.

Part of that Gothic intrigue includes alleged documentary proof that, far from being the iconoclastic solitary we were sold, Bodhidharma was in fact a domestic church boy who kowtowed to canon authority and insisted everyone else do as well. (This would be the Zen equivalent of claiming that Jesus was a well-to-do rabbinical Pharisee.)

All of which was sardonic entertainment for those who'd heard it before; at this stage in Western Zen, we're in great majority converts recruited via informed choice and lived experience, thus there are few of this ilk among us yet. Converts tend to accept the landscape they find; self-declared revolutionaries who radically reconstruct a tradition's history are a hallmark of socially- and parentally-transmitted religion.

It's just that overthrowing the Establishment is no fun if it doesn't net you substantial power, which the Zen establishment entirely lacks in this place and time.

But if the next generation survives us, they'll see more of these people.

So I rate it prudent to reach out to the Great Sangha while the reaching's good, in the hope that younger Zen in particular may, somewhere down the sunset path, ingest a grain of scepticism in their regard.

As I've pointed out, the world already groans with churches, and if all we are is another one, we'd best disband. My Twitter brother is angry; he wants people brought down, chastised. This is churchifying, not enlightenment practice. (I'm reminded of Zenners who "debunk" my hermit practice because I have no living teacher, and even one who met my suggestion that Zen is about sitting rather than service with "Sounds like Mara." Next up: our very own Satanic Panic!)

So they exist, even in Western Zen. And let's face it: to some extent, we are all them. Everyone has that line that must not be crossed, that "Zen is here, not there" litmus spell. If you don't acknowledge it, and atone for it, you're the death of Zen.

There's a cogent Quaker teaching that addresses this issue: "The only way to defeat the Devil is to stop being him." (I hope the maraphobe above also encounters this instruction at some point.)

I intend to use the example of my angry fellow traveller to locate him in myself, remind him why we've given our life to this Zen thing, and whack myself with the invisible kyôsaku I carry for the purpose. 

Because this shit is a waste of energy, in all religions, at all times.

(Portrait of Bodhidarma courtesy of Rawpixel.com and a generous photographer.)

Good Song: Wide Awake

Here's a good meditation for sojourners my age. Here at the crossroads of life, when most of ours is behind us, and what we have and what we owe comes into sharp focus.

It's hard to miss the Zen implications of the title and refrain. In addition to a gift for a koanic line, Julian Taylor – Canadian son of a Caribbean father and Mohawk mother – also wields a remarkably evocative voice that manages to embrace a multitude of genres and tones. In this case it bears a startling resemblance to Don Williams', blending perfectly with the gentle, introspective lyrics.

Anyway, give it a listen. See if it doesn't resonate with your path as well.

WIDE AWAKE
by Julian Taylor

It's a crazy world that we live in
The tide comes and goes so fast
Right now while I'm trying to be present
I'm still chasing shadows of my past

My father was born in the islands
My mom was born on the great turtle's back
They prayed for me when I'd go out in the evening
At least that's one of the rumours I'd hear

'Round Christmas time spent with my family
Over hot toddy sorrel and ginger beer
They did their best and they did it for freedom
They did everything they ever could for me

We went to church every single Sunday
We'd get dressed up and then go to granny's place
I'd run around that house with my cousins
We loved to race

There is an abundance of hope
That lies between the oceans of time
There's nothing singular about it
Yet it can be clearly defined
Yet it can be clearly defined

And I'm wide awake
I chalk it up to all of my mistakes
And all the heartache that I've had to face
And all the choices that I've had to make in my life

The greatest pictures are never taken
They're all stored in your memory
Me and my mom
We used to go to Good Bites and talk philosophy
We'd sit there just talking for hours

I once asked her why are good memories so heavy
She simply said
Aren't we lucky

And I'm wide awake
I chalk it up to all of my mistakes
And all the heartache that I've had to face
And all the choices that I had to make in my life

Lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah
Lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah
Lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah
Lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah-lah

Aren't we lucky
Aren't we lucky

There is an abundance of hope
That lies between the oceans of time
There's nothing singular about it
Yet it can be clearly defined
Yet it can be clearly defined

And I'm wide awake
I chalk it up to all of my mistakes
And all the choices that I've had to make
And all the heartache that I've had to face in this life

The Sword of Righteousness

A few days ago I saw a humorous meme involving Ouija boards on a Facebook group for members of the church I grew up in. The fact that I still have respect for Christianity is entirely down to the religious training I received there, which was deep and reflective, and continues to be an asset to my Zen practice.

But we had a couple of "those" Christians, too.

So it was that the thread underneath contained a few protests and dire warnings about EVIL! and SATAN! and THE OCCULT!!! (They caution writers not to use caps lock and multiple punctuation, but it's dishonest not to when expressing the opinions of those who think in them.)

And this got me mulling the difference between real and fake religion.

In a real religion, you're the idiot in the room. Fake religion confers special knowledge, even superpowers, such as the ability to speak in tongues or handle snakes or see auras. Or even to sit in one position for hours, disregard pain, cure bodily ailments, and look into the souls of others.

In contrast, after practicing real religion you know less than you did before. Stuff you've always hated, you're not so sure about. Uncorroborated beliefs, you're less willing to shoulder. Facile explanations, shallow documentation, scriptural lawyerball, saints and saviours, you eschew. Answers at all become suspect.

You become dumb. The world is big, and you're not. You've spent your life flailing in a dark room, your sword helicoptering overhead like everyone else's, and now you just sit down and wait for reliable intel.

That's what happened to me. After a week of zazen, I knew nothing. Because I'd never known anything. My conversion experience left me small, as small as everyone else. And now I can't unsee our identical smallness.

Blessed with a church that prizes spiritual penetration, and a family that meets rubbish with corrosive sarcasm, I never believed any nonsense about parlour games and witches and backward rock music. But these days I'm considering the larger issue.

A true faith practice isn't about becoming an expert in special dimensions or states of consciousness or planes of existence that the uninitiated can't see or understand. We have teachings about that sort of thing in Buddhism, too, and my take on them is a convicted "whatever". Because I won't be distracted by trivia.

And that's the difference.

In fake religion, you strive to fill your mind with as much crap as possible. Those with the most crap, are the most accomplished.

In real religion, you strive to empty your mind of crap.

And the true disciples are those still shoveling.

(Photo of the Sword of Righteousness courtesy of Anthony Appleyard and Wikipedia Commons.)

Our Worst Nightmare

This week I learned two things:

1. that something called "the Buddha-like mindset" is trending among young people in China and Japan, and
2. it's largely condemned

The phrase "Buddha-like mindset" – or Chinese and Japanese phrases so translated – refers to a tendency among those nations' youth to eschew lifestyles dedicated to amassing status symbols and winning the approval of others. It dovetails with a new tiger-free parental attitude that Simon Fraser anthro prof Jie Yang sums up as "there are not that many kids who will really amount to much, so why give them an exhausting childhood?"

Instead, these mostly male kids are said to grow up shiftless and solipsistic, never making it in the work world, devoting their lives instead to their hobbies, pets, and interests.

Most alarming to cultural gatekeepers, they're also swearing off women. Insofar as courtship is the most grueling of society's approval rackets, these young-to-middle-aged men buy back their sovereignty and peace of spirit by simply Bartlebying that mofo.

All of which is a precise description of me. Or has become, any road.

Of course, as Wikipedia points out, "Although it is inspired by the Buddhist guidance to become satisfied through giving up anything tied to avarice, it is not a Buddhist principle." It is, however, predicated on conventional Zen teaching. To wit, as another source in the WP article puts it: "It's OK to have, and it's OK not to have; no competition, no fight, no winning or losing."

But in fact, in a twist partly reminiscent of Western "lifestyle Buddhism", few adherents actually follow Buddha-like mindset into any spiritual practice. (China's Communist ruling class is turning back flips over it all the same, officially for ideological reasons, but more likely for political and economic ones.)

And really, in the end, it's not surprising that the lions of these Asian societies are greeting this improbable teenage fad with consternation.

Just imagine the atomic tantrums we'd pitch in the Christian West if our kids suddenly started emulating Christ.

While simultaneously rejecting the authority of the Church.

I dare to venture this would be the single worst nightmare we've ever faced.

(Photo courtesy of Ian Stauffer and Unsplash.com)

Good Cartoonist: The Naked Pastor

I'm just catching up with David Hayward, a cartoonist who has published under the provocative nom de guerre of The Naked Pastor for at least 10 years. His work, which draws on the inconsistencies of Christian practice, is refreshingly unblinking. It's also entirely transferable to Zen, and perhaps one or two other religions.

But what makes David's thoughts truly unique is his insight into the fundamental potholes encountered along everyone's road to enlightenment

Witness above illustration.

In this panel, ostensibly fingering Pastor Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church [godhatesfags.com - yes, really], we see a scowling human brandishing a sign that reads I HATE. Religious affiliation autocorrects this to GOD HATES, as indeed it always does, from which it's a short jump to GOD HATES FAGS, because malevolence can't exist without a target.

Ha-ha! Take that, Christians!

But wait… We're not done?

Nope. Could the sign now – just two hops in – say GOD HATES FRED PHELPS? Why yes, it seems to. And in case we thought we'd found a back-door out of this embarrassing development – maybe God just hates Fred Phelps because Fred promotes self-righteous Christianity – nope again. GOD HATES FRED PHELPS WHO HATES FAGS.

Well, crap. Turns out we (I mean God) hate Fred Phelps only because Fred annoys us. Now see here, sign person! You're clearly part of that big ill-defined group of people who are destroying humanity and making these the most immoral times in all history, from which we can never be saved!

Which is apparently exactly the case, because now we're carrying a sign that says GOD HATES EVERYONE. (Hold up… how did we end up carrying the sign?? I thought this was about Christians!)

OK, we've done it now. Unless we're psychopaths we can't help but realise, whether we admit it or not, that going around with a metaphorical bomb vest on is the off-ramp to Hell. And that means, of course, that GOD HATES ME.

Which, since those two are really the same person, means I HATE MYSELF.

Basically, that's all I am now: I HATE.

That is, GOD HATES.

And now He needs someone to hate. Let's see who's available…

And you're going to keep going around and around like that until you get down off the basswood horse and step off the carousel. Simply changing horses won't do it, nor will riding on the parental benches. (Side note: are there still carousels out there, with gilt and mirrors and calliopes and parental benches? Or are they all passed on to the Allegorical Hereafter?)

It's these cartoons that raise David above other internal critics of hypocritical churchmanship. Aside from the fact that most of his Jesus cartoons work just fine if you make them Buddha cartoons, he occasionally reminds us outright that he's not necessarily talking about Christians at all.

Which probably means that at this very minute one of us is out there printing GOD HATES DAVID HAYWARD on a sign.


(Cartoon from Feedly.)

Zen At War... With Itself

'Way back in March of 2012 CE (how strange to have such a deep vault) I reviewed Zen at War, Brian Daizen Victoria's exposé of Japanese Buddhism during the Second World War.

And now, these many years gone, while looking up the book's Amazon link for a friend, I happen to glance at the reader reviews.

Some of them are disheartening.

While most commenters shared thoughtful, supportive responses, I rate it worthwhile to meet two others, not by way of defending Daizen's work – it's self-defending – but to survey some dangerous internal trends in our incipient Western religion. Especially here, where our grasp of Buddhist history (and our own) is tenuous.

First to catch my eye was a one-star rating entitled "Very disappointing":

This guy [Daizen] must have a terrible background, probably tried to escape all that trauma by moving to far east and becoming Buddhist etc., the classic story. It's ok as long as one does not try and contaminate beautiful Zen with a messed up mind. Avoid this book especially if you're a new Zen learner as it will ruin the whole experience for you.

There's something simultaneously amusing and infuriating about a self-professed Zenner who has no idea what a human being is. While I assume First Honoured Sangha is a sojourner, I've also met so-called "masters" who lack any greater insight.

So to protect any fragile new Zen learners who may stumble upon such spluttering, Ima lay down some tough-dharma. (Ten thousand apologies, pro forma trigger warning, how's your father.)

1. First Honoured Sangha has no calling to judge others or analyse their lives, or to declare their fate foregone. (Gotama; Dogen; Jesus.)

2. First Honoured Sangha knows nothing about Daizen's "classic story". We all have classic stories. Even First Honoured Sangha. (Gotama; Claude Anshin Thomas.)

3. First Honoured Sangha has no authority to give permission, or withhold it. (Gotama; Jesus.)

4. First Honoured Sangha has not been asked to guard the supposed "honour" of Zen. Zen is clean by its nature. Others soil it. (Bodhidharma.)

5. If First Honoured Sangha can't put down the burden of piety, then First Honoured Sangha can haul his or her prodigal backside back to the Church. If we must speak of contaminating Zen, piety is certainly the ultimate pollution. Mindless fear and shame are what authentic Zenners strive to overcome.

In an oddly similar vein, consider this (ostensibly favourable, five-star) review:

The shock value is not so great, as I've been aware of the basic contents for sometime. Japan is an island and the Japanese are an insular people. The emphasis in their culture is group conformity. Zen is not the transformer of personality as it was once marketed, and it should not surprise us to learn that Zen leaders in Japan followed the lead of the Japanese government and Army into widespread war.

The endemic racism and ethnocentrism of Western Zenners never ceases to dumbfound me. It's not just that we dissuade those of African or Hispanic or Arabic origin from joining us; we even freeze out Asians! With the exception of a dwindling handful of deified Asia-born teachers, you see damn few Asian faces in Western Zen centres.

Seriously, brothers and sisters. We have a problem.

One that won't go away until we drive it bodily from the zendo and kill it with ferocious blows from our monk sticks.

Apart from the sort of blanket condemnation First Honoured Sangha called down on another entire vaguely-defined demographic, Second Honoured Sangha neatly excuses Westerners from suffering any angst over Daizen's thesis. The demon, we're assured, isn't the Sangha; it's the Japanese.

With respect, Second Honoured Sangha is mistaken.

The demon is the Sangha. All of us. Then and now. There and here. Present and future.

You and me.

Nor am I alone in my discomfort with the unBuddhic habit of associating practice with submission to dictatorial authority – and then absolving ourselves of the evil we do under it. Thus, Third Honoured Sangha:

What I don't like, is the way it is almost impossible to discuss [enthusiastic Buddhist participation in Japanese fascism] in the Zendo, and I've tried.

Word.

And a final Fourth:

As a Buddhist, it was a reminder that we must be ever looking at our own practice. Do read this book.

Zen is important. We must resist the urge to turn it into a church.


(Photo courtesy of Serg Childed and Wikimedia Commons)