Copyright 1996 by Bristol Chan Group, UK, uploaded with permission.

May not be quoted for commercial purposes.

Anyone wishing to quote for non-commercial purposes may seek
permission from the editor: jmcg@biols.susx.ac.uk
or Peter Howard, 22 Butts Rd., Chiseldon, Wilts., SN4 0NW, England, UK.

Printed versions of past and future issues [which
includes drawings, etc.] can be obtained for the sum of 2
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in the world, from Peter Howard.


NEW

CH'AN

FORUM

 

No. 13 Spring 1996

Dharma Adviser

The Venerable
Chan Master 
Dr. Sheng-Yen

Teacher

Dr. John Crook
(Ch'uan-Teng 
Chien-Ti)

Editors

John McGowan
Peter Howard

Drawings

Ros Cuthbert

Price: UK Sterling 2.00




WHAT IS GENUINE BUDDHISM?


In this month's New Chan Forum we address one of the most 
difficult questions for any religious practice; namely when is  
practice genuine? 


In our most recent issues we have given some consideration to the  
fact that the growth of Western Buddhism has been  predominantly 
lay practitioner based and we have published a number of articles 
on the integration of Buddhist practice into everyday life. Though 
this explosion of the Dharma in the West has many positive aspects 
it may also have a darker side. The proliferation of teachers and 
doctrines has resulted a number of instances where, possibly with 
good intentions, inauthentic Buddhism and poorly qualified 
teachers have been portrayed as the real thing. Some of the 
consequences of such situations have been discussed by Stuart 
Lachs in NCF 10. 


Clearly the question of authenticity in Buddhist training goes to the 
core of our assesment of our own experiences and may raise the 
most profound dilemmas as to the role of our teacher in our 
practice. In this issue we offer the views of several practitioners who 
address the issue of authenticity in  a number of ways. Ken Jones 
considers the rise of large and doctrinal Buddhist organisations in 
Britain and Simon Child discusses the process of integrating  
spiritual practice into everyday life. In our main piece  John Crook 
assesses the nature of authenticity in practice and the role of 
personal honesty in its attainment. We also have a short article by 
Shifu in which he discusses how we view and interpret spiritual 
experience.


It must be stressed that these discussions are only the views of 
individual practitioners. You may disagree or have things to add. If 
so please write. We hope that these articles will stimulate debate. 
Many of you may have wrestled with these issues. If so, write and 
tell us!


In addition to polemic be reassured that this issue contains the 
usual mix of poems, retreat reports and advertisements. 


On a final, more practical, note we are still short of drawings and 
photos for the New Chan Forum. If you have anything to submit or 
any articles, poems, letters or comments the addresses of the editors 
are, as always,  given on the back page. 



IS THE VIEW OF PRACTICE MORE IMPORTANT THAN PRACTICE ITSELF ?

Master Sheng-yen (1)

Shifu, I have a question. A Chan aphorism says, "The practice is
important but the view of practice is even more important." It
seems to me this is a contradiction of Chan because any view I
hold must be subjective and a distortion of truth and therefore an
obstruction. If the ego goes away in the experience of practice
what does it matter if the person is Atheist, Buddhist, Christian,
Muslim or anything else. If you say only Buddhists can have such an
experience is not this elitist?

Shifu answers : The saying you refer to is a paraphrase of a line
which reads "What one knows or sees is more important than where
one is stepping." You should not translate "what one knows or sees"
by the word "view" because a view is something that can come from
one's learning. By contrast the Chinese phrase refers to direct
experience. In the Lotus Sutra there is a saying, "To open what the
Buddha knows and sees; to reveal what the Buddha knows and sees; to
realise what the Buddha knows and sees; to enter what the Buddha
knows and sees." What the Buddha knows and sees is emptiness -no
form-no attachment-no conditioned phenomena.

We can translate this line as "What one knows and sees is more
important than what one is doing." Here " what one knows and sees"
refers to what the Buddha knows and sees. How can a practitioner
understand this?

There is certainly the case of one who has "experienced the nature"
and has entered what the Buddha knows and sees. But how can others
really know that what they know and see is what the Buddha knows
and sees? One has to gauge experience against the teachings of the
Buddha, that is the Sutras. Practising with diligence, studying the
Sutras, keeping the precepts, hearing teachings - all these are
what one does. But this is not as important as what one knows or
sees. Without enlightenment one cannot really know and see what the
Buddha knows and sees.

If one has a good teacher then reading the sutras is less important.
A sound teacher should be able to tell whether an experience is
genuine or not, shallow or deep. If there is no enlightenment
experience the teacher can point to the problem or blockage in
practice- the obstruction or the attachment that prevents insight.

This aphorism is not advising people to abandon practice; rather it
says that practice is important but what the Buddha knows and sees
is even more important. Without the guidance of the Buddha's
experience people will not be practising Buddhadharma correctly.
They would be engaging in "outer paths". Before enlightenment,
practitioners need the guidance of what the Buddha knows and sees.
After an enlightenment experience they still need to check their
experience against the teachings of the Buddha to see if it is
truly what the Buddha knows and sees.

Tasting wine, evaluating wines and sipping them is not the same as
falling into the barrel. Then there is no separation from the wine
and to speak of thirst is no longer relevant .A shallow Chan
experience lasts for a short time and a deeper one lasts longer.
With a deeper experience a person sees emptiness more clearly.

Even if you have had no enlightenment experience, an intellectual
grasp of what the Buddha knows and sees will prevent you venturing
far down the wrong path . You may even be able to guide others in
practice but you will not be able to confirm another's possible
enlightenment.

If a teacher has neither comprehended intellectually what the
Buddha knows nor tasted it in an enlightenment experience then he
or she is probably practising an outer path and leading others into
error. People often practice with some expectation in mind - an
idea that there is something to be gained. This leads to problems.

Many practitioners have experiences of a supposed unchanging
totality or eternity but this is not what the Buddha knows and
sees. People from many traditions have this experience and they may
constitute a first opening to enlightenment. Such experience is
however not an experience of no- self, of emptiness.

Much of Buddhism is not too difficult to understand and
communicate. You may develop a sound intellectual understanding
through appropriate literature and armed with knowledge you may
instruct others in a rudimentary way. Such a teacher should not
attempt the big issues. Most importantly he or she will have no
capability of confirming or disavowing someone else's supposed
enlightenment experience. If you are intent on teaching others
about Buddhism or leading a meditation group you should first get
permission from your teacher .

Problems arise if someone uses religious experience to interpret
the sutras. One should use the sutras to interpret religious
experience. That is why one should work with a good and qualified
teacher .



1 Published with permission and lightly edited from Chan Magazine.
  Spring 1994 11-15.



East Over West

A friend of a friend, see, Japanese Scot
-ophile, richer even in mind
than wallet paid a visit,
hired himself a kilt
and highered himself
              (a helicopter)
the better to learn the lay of the land.

All week he hummed, nodded, pored over
the spectacle of Scotland's living atlas,
hovering intense as a wee professor.
Returned babbling, still high:

'Mairead (my friend) you are born richer
than I... Just think! The moonscabbed rocks,
the chiselled sweep of mossy coasts
-raw ancientness still-defined,
nested in machairs of windraked sand
in gullies of green shubbery and secrets
in the vivid swells and tumbling slopes
-all of this i adored
           until then
                       Lewis,
a humble brinescrubbed stone, sparse, uncomplex,
itself enshrined in
itself, the tiny jewelled stone
of Scotland's immense Zen garden.'
                                                 Kevin MacNeil



AN EDITORIAL FROM THE CH'AN HALL

The "Question of Lay Zen" which has been the concern of our recent
issues is a burning one. The majority of Buddhists in this country
are lay practitioners so that the means of training available to
them and their affiliations to training institutions become of
paramount importance in the transmission of Buddhism from the
Orient to the West.

However there are many ways in which training institutions might
mistakenly provide inauthentic Buddhism. Yet, within so rich a
tradition as the Dharma, it is difficult to define what
authenticity may be. The recent mistakes in transmissions of
authority to teach to persons who subsequently became faulty
exemplars makes this issue important. Within our tradition of Chan
(Zen) one fundamental perspective must never be laid aside :

"Followers of the Way ! There is talk of the Way to be practised
and the Dharma to be realised ....Young students, not understanding
anything, put their faith in wild fox sprites and so become
entangled in their random talk and fancies. .....You say that
everywhere there is training and there is realisation . Do not be
deceived. Though something can be attained by training it only
creates the karma of birth and death. ...I am afraid those teachers
are like newly wed brides, uneasy and worried about being chased
out of their homes and starving to death ....When the sword of
wisdom flashes there is nothing at all. Even before the light
shines darkness is already bright. Because of this an old master
said "The ordinary heart is the way". (Linji. 9th Century).(1)

Lin chi, like the Buddha before him, emphasised individual
attainment, searching out one's salvation through diligence,
depending neither on words alone nor on institutions nor the
personal guru. A true teacher is a facilitator of such individual
understanding and not an authority purveying a dogma to be
believed.

Some developments in British Buddhism are a cause for concern to
those who see Linji, that profound iconoclast and personal
facilitator, as representing the Buddha's own perspective. The
growth of cult-like mega institutions focused on deviant teachings
of modern charismatics is highly suspect. There is more than a hint
of fascistic self-promotion in these closed systems which bodes ill
for the future of open Buddhism. I have recently apprehended what
Stephen Batchelor meant when, in conversation at Sharpham, he once
suggested to me that "the Golden Age of Buddhism in the West may
already be over!" For these reasons I am most grateful to Ken Jones
for his precise delineation of the problem in this issue.

My own perspective is quite clear. I am a child of the Western
Enlightenment, that rationality that since the 17th century has
thrown out the superstitions of the churches and given rise to
science, the rights of man, social democracy and all those ethical
attitudes we may perhaps take too much for granted in our
post-modern scepticism. Of course all this history, despite (or
perhaps because of) its emphasis on individual freedoms, has also
provoked the serious problems of our time. However a regression to
an age of authoritarian superstition is no answer. I stand for the
integration of the Buddha's Enlightenment with that of the modern
Western Enlightenment perspective. Bringing these enlightenments
together is the function of my exploratory role as teacher and will
always be so. Only in this way do I believe that Buddhism can
flourish in the West in a manner that can fulfil its
soteriological (2) role in our time. The Buddha as the great doctor
needs a hearing. Yet the one who is healed in the end does it from
within.

What then is authenticity in training? This issue is devoted to
this question. We hope it will stimulate debate and we welcome your
comments and discussion of what we are presenting. Our views have
no authority, we play here as fox sprites but in a world of hungry
ghosts they too must have their say and work their passage to
understanding. We can only do it together. Let us have your views.
Do not sit around in a passive hobbyism. Please write.

John Crook 
Ch'uan Teng Chien Ti

1 Selected from Schloegl, I.1976 The Zen Teaching of Rinzai.
  Shambala. Berkeley.

2 Soteriological: Doctrine pertaining to salvation. 




touching

the silence

simply

without movement

or caught breath

the present

folds open

                                        Bryce Anderson




MOVEMENTS IN BRITISH BUDDHISM: A CAUTIONARY NOTE **

Ken Jones

Buddhism in Britain is dominated now by three big "movements": the
Friends of the Western Buddhist Order (FWBO), with 27 centres and
14 affiliated groups totalling some 2,500 members; the New Kadampa
Tradition (NKT), with 14 centres and 88 groups involving about
4,000 people; and Soka Gakkai UK (SG-UK) which currently claims
6,000 members. This is the hard-core of British Buddhism (1).

All three movements have charismatic leaders whose prolific
writings each provide a comprehensive and particular version of
Buddhism to which all their followers are expected to subscribe.
These exclusivist visions are often propagated with missionary zeal
from "Buddhist centres" (FWBO) they project a public image of
Buddhism which can make other Buddhists uneasy. In each system
members may rise through a hierarchy assimilating the essentials of
a "party line" as they do so. The wearisome predictability of much
of their documentation amounts to a literature of ideology or at
best a limitation of enquiry to within implicitly understood
limits. NKT has declined to have anything to do with the fledgling
Network of Buddhist Organisations (NBO) formed to foster
understanding between different schools of British Buddhism and
sceptics ascribe the interest in the NBO of the other two groups to
the "entryism" characteristic of such movements.

Taken together these three movements have created a large exclusion
zone preventing truly open dialogue in the UK Buddhist community.
These organisations are largely impermeable to debate since they
already have the assured answers which discourage discussion and
interaction with those holding alternative views. Members have a
strong sense of "us" and "them", a belongingness which generally
stops short, however, of cultic dependence.

Significantly, both FWBO and NKT would justify their alleged
deviance from mainstream Buddhism on the grounds that they are
trying to develop an appropriate Western Dharma. The NKT, for
example, has been removed from the Dalai Lama's listing of Tibetan
Buddhist centres and it no longer subscribes to a traditional
lineage. The SG-UK holds to a highly deviant Japanese brand of
Buddhism, always controversial in Japan, which Stephen Batchelor
has characterised as being as Buddhist as the Mormons are
Christian.(2) It does however relate rather well to the needs of a
mass industrial society which may well account for it's success in
expanding beyond Japan. Social engagement in "chanting for new car"
has its attractions. The more serious Right Livelihood co-operative
businesses of the FWBO and their vision of a new society may make a
valuable and fresh contribution to Western Buddhism. Though a long
way from recent scandals in certain American Buddhist centres some
of this has none the less a detectably Orwellian whiff.

These movements are complex phenomena and more subtle than can be
treated in this brief note. The controversial vitality they have
injected into British Buddhism has a positive side particularly
with respect to their social and cultural concerns. These forms of
closure do however generate the distrust and suspicion commonly
levelled against institutions that look increasingly like cults.

Those of us who remain outside these communities in a more open
Buddhism might consider a threefold response. Firstly, it would be
helpful to share these differing perceptions so as to understand
them while not shying away from robust, creative and
non-confrontational conflict. My own interfaith experience suggests
that this can end up bringing protagonists closer together as real
people rather than as propagandists. Yet it is also important to
sense when to stop because movements thrive in barren ideological
trench warfare. The world desperately needs the services of
sincere, spiritually informed people even if they don't agree with
one another. Common cause in honest Dharma fellowship has much to
recommend it.

In response to such powerful movements liberal Buddhists should not
be disarmed by their own liberalism. Open Buddhism in the
Theravadan, Sutric and Mantric traditions is comparatively subtle
and elusive but it deserves every support whether it be through the
Network of Buddhist Organisations, the new Sharpham College or our
little Maenllwyd Fellowship which John Crook has proposed.

Small is beautiful and like water carves the valleys.


1 I am grateful to Dr David Scott of Brunel University's West
  London Institute for his informative surveys : Modern British
  Buddhism: Patterns and Directions ( Paper to the SOAS Buddhist
  Forum 15.11.95) and Ecumenical convergence across British Buddhism:
  Fact or Fiction?  ( Buddhism in Modern contexts. Kings College
  London Seminar, 9.12.95)

2 Soka Gakkai  was, until recently, the lay arm of Nichiren Shoshu
  one of 38 sects claiming to represent the teachings of the 13th
  century Japanese teacher Nichiren. (eds).

** There has been feedback from the FWBO following the publication of
   this article. It is likely that there will be further discussion
   in the next issue of New Chan Forum.


silence

enters the heart

blessedly

provoking softness

in the feeling tissue

admitting no fear

or censure

but the inner tremor

of release
                                        Bryce Anderson




TRAINING IN LAY ZEN

Simon Child

In the Lotus Sutra the Buddha predicted a future Buddhahood for
most of his followers yet both his cousin and personal attendant,
Ananda, and his son, Rahula, had to wait until after the others
before the Buddha made predictions concerning them. In his "A Guide
to the Threefold Lotus Sutra, " Nikkyo Niwano interprets this as
indicating the difficulty inherent in teaching those close to
oneself. Mere words are then insufficient because those close to us
will be more influenced by our everyday behaviour and manner, and
are exposed to all our conduct, not just our guarded best.

"However exemplary our conduct may be at times, if we are
ordinarily selfish and hateful in our dealings, we may hardly
expect much effect for good. Only if we are good examples through
the twenty-four hours of the day, may we expect to bring to our way
the people who live and work around us."

Although I am not concerned here with predicting the Buddhahood of
anybody, the message is clear: as lay practitioners who do not yet
have the stature of the Buddha, we should anticipate difficulties
in our relationship with others, and especially with our families,
friends, and colleagues. Whilst we train (because we are aware, and
perhaps to some extent have experienced that there is much value in
training) those close to us see only the outward signs, which may
be weak at our stage of training. If we try to explain in "mere
words", it may be that our behaviour contradicts us and we end up
not convincing anyone.

Of course the answer to this is to continue to deepen our practice
until we manifest our inward progress unselfconsciously.
Unfortunately that doesn't answer the question of how to deal with
the world in the interim!

If we wish to facilitate lay Zen training these are important areas
which we must address. If we do not, then we will risk distraction
to our own practice as we deal with an environment which may be
unsympathetic, perhaps even hostile. Unless we are skilful in our
interactions we also risk misleading others about the value of Zen.
Probably this is one of the main values of a monastic system for
those who are able to enter it: namely a supportive environment
relatively isolated from unsympathetic and hostile influence.

For most of us monasticism is not an option. There is not as yet a
strong culture of Zen in the West and by the time most of us
discover it we already have entanglements with families and so on.
This is why it seems so important to address the issue of
facilitating lay training, as there will always be many for whom
lay training is the only reasonable path. Yet there appears to be
no model from the past or from elsewhere that seems fully
appropriate.

Let us not fall into the trap of saying "Poor me, I can't be a monk
and so I can never do very well." The majority of the apparent
differences between monastic and lay training lie in our own
perceptions and stereotypes, which don't bear closer analysis. For
example; "Monks are dedicated, professional, full-time
practitioners, whilst we are amateurs, part-timers, with many
distractions." But, varying in exact style according to their
particular tradition, monks have many "household chores" to do,
administration of monasteries, interactions with other monks and
lay people, planning of teaching sessions etc. True, monks may find
it easier to get extra time for sitting meditation, but sitting is
not the only form of practice, and lay practitioners have the
advantage of their training being based in the rich variety of
experience of everyday life, and are much less likely to be lulled
into a sort of "false serenity, " as they are challenged every day
by their lives. Perhaps coming to understand and experience that
"vexation is Bodhi" is likely to be ultimately more thorough in the
testing environment of the marketplace than in a monastery.

I am not intending to decry the monastic system, but simply to
point out that lay persons need not be second-rate practitioners.
Whilst we may appear to have some extra difficulties compared to
monks, in many cases if these are properly understood we can use
them to our advantage. Even so we should clarify and respond to
those areas where we could be at a disadvantage, and I would
include the following:

a) As indicated in the introduction, we must learn how to be
practitioners in a social environment which may not understand
our intentions and may not be supportive. This includes both the
problem of how we may feel isolated in our practice, and how others
see us and learn from us.

b) Feeling isolated may lead to us splitting our lives into a
duality of meditation sessions versus ordinary samsaric life,
without realising that it is possible and important to integrate
the two. If we allow such a split then we are truly part-time
hobbyist practitioners.

c) To guide us away from such errors we need teachers who are
accessible to us, and who understand these problems. We could
include as teaching the lay support derived from meditation groups
and their members as well as from more formally recognised
teachers. Should we then look to have teachers who are also lay
practitioners, and what difference would it make compared to having
a monk as a teacher?

No doubt there are other issues, but I choose these partly because
they seem to stand out from my own personal history. I have in the
early years been very isolated in my practice, and thus I acquired
initially a rather skewed view. Although I seem to be coming
through alright so far, I wonder how many others with a similar
history may have fallen by the wayside, and whether this could have
been avoided if there was a better system of lay training
available.

In common with many other practitioners, my practice started rather
haltingly, and I was initially a "hobbyist" practitioner. I came
across Zen virtually by chance and was curious to see if there was
anything in it. I was open-minded enough to consider it a
possibility that people could have experiences for which there were
no words, since words can only convey meaning in relation to
something which is already held in common between the participants.
I then heard of Maenllwyd and the Western Zen Retreats and was
offered the tantalising hint that perhaps here was a place where I
could personally have such an experience rather than just reading
words which always admitted that they were failing to describe it
properly.

I was fortunate enough to have such an experience, in a small way,
on my first retreat, and, whilst this encouraged me to return, I
was enough of a sceptic to not accept that this proved all of
Buddhism to be correct. May be, I thought, this was merely the
result of a few days away from home in a strange place doing
unusual things and hardly talking? But, as I continued to return to
Maenllwyd, I felt that it was right to continue meditating for a
while after a retreat in case that deepened or continued the
experience. Later it seemed good to restart meditating before a
retreat so that I arrived already partly calmed at the beginning.
But even when the end of the meditation after one retreat ran into
the meditation leading up to the next retreat, so that my sitting
was regular over a longer period, I was still just considering
retreats as being proper meditation, regarding this as separate
from the rest of my life, and so I was a hobbyist rather than one
following a path. Perhaps I was aware that to take it any more
seriously could have major implications for my life, and perhaps
require confronting the disinterest or animosity of others, and so
I managed to ignore John's nudges in that direction.

It is difficult to say at what point my attitude changed. I do
remember that after one particular retreat, it occurred to me that
I was finding so much in my meditational experience that had
parallels in Buddhist doctrines that it was becoming unreasonable
to remain a sceptic. And yet I was not yet ready to say that I was
Buddhist, and in fact I wasn't even sure what it meant to say that
I was Buddhist. I wasn't so sceptical that I had to wait until I
had absolutely everything my own way, and I was able to accept the
uncertainty of knowing that there were some doctrines that seemed
as though they were never likely to come to life for me. (For
example I suspected that ideas of rebirth were "skilful means"
useful in the cultures in which Buddhism developed and that it
didn't matter that I wasn't prepared to take them literally). Even
so, I felt a huge gap between acknowledging that my experiences of
being on retreat were related to Buddhist practice, and calling
myself a Buddhist (which might imply changes in my life, and taking
on concepts and commitments which I only hazily understood and
preferred not to get involved with).

I started to read avidly from many different traditions to get a
wider grasp of what Buddhism was about. As I had been splitting
practice from my daily life, and avoiding any aspects that
threatened to impinge on it, I found great emphasis on aspects
which diverged widely from my practice so far. For example, I had
been practising out of a sense of curiosity, perhaps even
adventure, and finding interesting experiences and solutions to
personal problems. Now I found myself reading about Precepts,
Compassion, Gratitude, and other manifestations of religiosity
which until now I had been studiously ignoring whenever they were
pointed out to me. In one sense I wanted to run a mile to avoid all
this, and yet I was reading and being reminded that these issues
were very important in a tradition which I had more or less proved
to myself and accepted. This became my next koan, and, although in
a sense it was solved as I came to see that it was unrealistic to
try to solve all my problems and be happy myself whilst neglecting
all around me, it continues as the koan of daily life. How indeed
do I live my life seeing suffering all around and yet being unable
to relieve it all?

I find it difficult to say how things could have been better for
me. Although perhaps through my selfish blinkers I delayed a
broader understanding, if this had been thrust upon me too soon I
might well have run away and got no understanding at all. And
whilst I was lacking support from others I was at least able to
proceed at my own pace. But I can't help feeling that there must be
others for whom lack of support could lead to a lapsing of practice
which is not restarted, and others who don't get beyond a one-sided
view. There is a balance to be struck, and it is different for
different people. This is a matter of skilful means, and there
probably is no single ideal system of lay training which would be
right for all. Just as there are varieties of systems of monastic
training which are suited to different individuals, there need to
be different lay models available.

Looking at the stereotypes of different traditions, we see the
militaristic Japanese Rinzai contrasted with the softer, more
gradual Soto, which yet may be more firmly based in daily life.
Within Soto in the U.K. we find the again more Japanese style of
the International Zen Association, using scriptures untranslated
and emphasising posture, contrasted with the perceptual, humanistic
and more devotional style of Throssel Hole Priory, which uses
translated scriptures set to Western religious music. We also, of
course, find the Western Zen Retreats, blending methods from
various cultures, and the Chan practice of Master Sheng-yen
orthodox, traditional, and yet seemingly flexible enough to blend
comfortably into the modern West, partly translated and partly
untranslated, and using a variety of methods according to the
individual need.

All of these approaches have their adherents and may be right for
them. Some practitioners may feel comfortable from the outset with
an approach which may be scriptural or devotional, and which may
have foreign cultural trappings, whilst others may rebel against
this and benefit from a more gradual introduction. Some (such as
myself) may gain an interest initially in exploring the
psychological aspects, but if these people are not to get "stuck"
in psychologising they will need to have a teacher who, whilst
respecting and understanding this approach, has gone beyond it
himself and can lead others beyond it when they are ready. Whatever
the approach, it seems advisable to have flexibility so that it is
not necessary for someone to lose contact with the basis of his
training just because he finds it appropriate at that time to
explore new methods, as will be the case from time to time. This is
one reason why a teacher must "vow to master limitless approaches
to Dharma."

This is perhaps why I feel particularly comfortable with Master
Sheng-yen's school of Chan, as there seems to be a flexibility
over method and approach, yet with a firmness of deep understanding
which can see through difficulties without resorting to "toeing the
party line" to hide areas of weaker understanding.

Does it matter whether the teacher is a lay person or a monk?
Ultimately, of course, it doesn't matter at all. But there are
differences before one reaches that ultimate understanding. For
example, taking a monk as a teacher may for some people generate
the feeling that only monks are proper practitioners, and that they
themselves are second-rate and should really aspire to be a monk,
but, "Oh dear, I can't, because of such-and-such, and so I will
never be any good..." Some monks may have a good understanding of
the problems of family life, and some lay teachers may not, but it
will perhaps nevertheless be more readily taken for granted by the
trainee that he is better understood by a lay person. Also, if it
continues to be the case that the majority of practitioners in the
West are laymen, then it seems likely that the main pool of those
available to be teachers will likewise be laymen.

This raises the question of lineage. Respect for lineage has
protected the transmission of the Dharma from corruption by
self-proclaimed teachers. But whilst there have been and continue
to be examples of lay teachers, in the main the lineage has been
passed down through a monastic line. There are practical reasons
for this - a master will have closest acquaintance with, and
therefore a more sure judgement of, those with whom he is regular
contact in a monastery, rather than with lay people. But it does
not have to be so. As I have tried to emphasise, lay practitioners
are not second- rate and can receive transmission when appropriate.
An early historical example is that of the Sixth Patriarch,
Hui-Neng. Although he had been pounding rice in a monastery kitchen
for some months, when he received transmission he was still a lay
man and was not ordained until many years later. In recent times
Master Sheng-Yen has felt able to transmit the authorisation to
teach to a lay practitioner who was not even Chinese(1). And yet some
who have examined this issue present a view against recognising lay
teachers. Rev. Master Jiyu-Kennet has stated that she would not
confirm kensho in a lay person, because, she assumes, the purpose
of confirming kensho is to confirm that a priest is qualified to
teach, and a lay person might misuse such a confirmation. There is
logic in her view, but it appears to exclude the possibility of a
lay person becoming a teacher other than by becoming a monk first.
The Roshi here uses "monk" and "priest" almost interchangeably, as
is perhaps understandable coming from the Japanese tradition, and
follows Vinaya definitions of monk and priest which would appear to
exclude laymen. The "Lay Ministers" in the meditation groups
affiliated to Throssel Hole are specifically denied authorisation
as teachers. Whether there is scope for this position to be
reversed in future if individuals subsequently prove themselves fit
is not stated.

Other ancient and modern authorities, including Master Sheng-yen,
express a different view. The experience of kensho, "seeing the
nature", is a moment of enlightened awakening revealing an
individual's insight independently of whatever role or social
position that person may have. It does not follow that such an
individual can make a good teacher in a lineage or should be
authorised to be one. Indeed many mistakes in transmission in the
USA have pivoted around this issue.(2) A transmission as a teacher
depends upon other matters besides the individual's insight such as
ethical behaviour, balanced understanding of others and continued
cultivation in humility as well as his or her situation and
opportunity. It seems to be a mistake to suppose that an
enlightenment experience, which may in any case be quite shallow,
in some way implies perfection of conduct, awareness and ability to
teach needy persons safely. Continued cultivation of the path is
essential.(3)

Lay meditation groups can fall between their two functions of
social support and Dharma teaching. If there is no authorised
teacher, then respect for lineage can make sharing of Dharma rather
tentative and superficial. A meeting of practitioners which
studiously avoids Dharma discussion and provides only social
support can seem a little frustrating, failing to respond to
perceived needs for sharing difficulties in training, and risks
seeming as superficial as social groups of non- practitioners.

None the less lay groups appear to be the way forward, and would be
enhanced certainly if they had their own fully authorised teacher
to give ready access to teaching for those who need it, perhaps as
a sort of parallel of the monastery in the community. There is a
balance to be struck here between welcoming those who are newcomers
with only a tentative interest (but with a potential to progress),
as against providing an environment which can respond to the deeper
needs of more established practitioners. Leaders of lay groups may
thus offer a variety of approaches according to needs e.g.
introductory talks and meditation instruction for newcomers, with
perhaps discussions and teachings which assume more background
knowledge reserved for more experienced practitioners. This may
seem rather elitist, but I have seen newcomers apparently
frightened away because of being "thrown in at the deep end, " when
some simpler introduction might have helped them feel more
comfortable. There may be several groups within an area, each
following a different tradition as suits their members, and these
should allow movement between groups as individuals feel open to
different methods, but always remembering the value of persevering
with a method rather than changing too readily because of apparent
lack of success.

Opportunity for formal sitting is of course crucial. Lay
practitioners often find difficulty getting to retreats (time off
work, leaving the family, child-minding arrangements, etc.), but
there is nevertheless no getting away from the importance of
intensive retreat. Withdrawing from the world and going on retreat
is not to deny the advantages that I have indicated of lay
practice, but complements it. A place such as the Maenllwyd gives
the opportunity for intensive practice with less risk of
distraction from outside concerns, in preparation for returning to
the world with practice strengthened and therefore more ready to
engage the distractions of the world, hopefully even to no more
consider them as "distractions". But daily practice is arguably
even more important, and meeting fellow practitioners regularly for
group sitting can have a peculiar power. Perhaps it is the
discipline of sitting with others knowing that there is a schedule
and that you are stuck with it and so you might as well get on with
it, or maybe it is the intensity of knowing that you are with a
group of like-minded practitioners when the rest of the week you
feel isolated in your practice, or it could be simply that this is
protected time in which you just know that you are definitely going
to get on and practice, whereas at home there is always the
possibility of distraction. If practice is erratic, attending a
regular meeting provides the opportunity and stimulus to restart
your practice, and this is reinforced with each attendance, even if
attendances too are erratic. But ultimately daily practice has to
be done by oneself, minute by minute, and one must come to cope
with the isolation of practising alone whilst in a crowd. In the
end one comes to see that whilst one is never actually truly alone,
one must always do one's own practice completely alone.

The final topic that I would like to address is the "outward"
aspect of training. Ultimately our training is to be done for the
benefit of others, and we must thus ensure appropriate relations
with others to facilitate this. The introductory quotation points
to this problem, and it is not an easy one to solve. Many
practitioners have families who do not understand or take an
interest in their training. How should we respond to this
situation? I remember John quoting a story of a Tibetan Geshe who
felt that he was not conveying the teaching as well as he might
have done had he stayed in Tibet. The Dalai Lama advised him simply
saying that he should "manifest" better. This is appropriate
advice, but unfortunately our audience may be less perceptive than
those whom the Geshe was addressing, and our training not as deep.
We must be extra mindful of our outward appearance which is what
others judge us by. Alienating others does not help them or
ourselves, and the lack of a national culture and background
understanding of Zen and Buddhism means that we have to devise ways
appropriate to our situation to introduce our path to our spouse,
our children, and Western society generally, without imposing
ourselves and our foreign seeming views on them.

If Zen is to flourish in the West, these issues of lay training
must be faced. In the Western world I do not foresee a wholesale
move towards monastic training yet, as Dogen remarked, "Pure zazen
must be done" and the experience of intensive retreat is vital.
Today there is much interest and serious intent amongst lay
practitioners, and these deserve whatever support and teaching is
appropriate to their needs. For some this may be simply tolerance
as they make their own path, whilst others will need more social
support and Dharma instruction. As far as possible we must find
ways to accommodate all practitioners.


1 See NCF 1994.Transmitting the Lamp. p1-4.

2 See Lachs, S.1994. A slice of Zen in America. NCF
  10,12-20.Bristol Chan Group.

3 See  useful discussions in Buswell,R.E.1983.The Korean Approach
  to Zen: collected works of Chinul. University of Hawaii Press.
  Honolulu.




entering

the moment

without

possession

i am

free
                                        Bryce Anderson


AUTHENTICITY AND THE PRACTICE OF ZEN

John Crook

The need for an examination

The authority of experience depends upon authenticity. If we base
our action or feeling in inauthentic experience it can only lead to
play acting or pretence with potentially catastrophic consequences.
Sadly, many of our justifications for action rest on the outcomes
of past personal, familial and social tensions that have remained
unresolved and which distort our perception of ourselves and other
people. They lead to a biased repression of emotion and a
ritualisation of personal behaviour into rigid moulds that may
later produce an inability to recover the repressed experiences in
understanding. Such "stuckness" commonly leads to damaged lives
inhabited by persons in permanent low level stress and whose
behaviour is often socially damaging. Such a condition is widely
prevalent, almost a norm in human society (1)  and some have argued
that it amounts to a disease.

Buddhist thought has accepted this position for some 2,500 years
arguing that the human mind is normally in a state of delusion from
which it is difficult to recover (2).  The Buddha has often been called
the great doctor and the task of Buddhism as soteriology is to
replace illusion by clarity and this process is what is meant by
"enlightenment"(3).  Yet so normal is the state of illusion that
Buddhist institutions and teachers are by no means immune from it
and there are those who would argue for the necessity of a constant
and watchful cultivation(4).  Such a viewpoint is often ignored
especially in heady periods of Buddhist history when the Dharma is
expanding rapidly into new cultural settings. Since Buddhism and
especially Zen claims to restore authenticity to consciousness we
need to ask how successful it is or whether the teachings and
teaching personalities hold us in some illusory thrall.

Today there are strong reasons for pressing such an enquiry. The
behaviour of teachers, both Oriental and Western, participating in
the dramatic spread of Zen and Tibetan institutions in America has
often fallen severely short of the ethical ideal. Stuart Lachs(5) has
recently reviewed developments that reveal widespread lapses in
conventional morality. The causes for this are not solely due to an
irresponsibility attributable to teachers, their followers have
also been severely at fault. The context of such problems lies in
the almost desperate Western need for personal meaning in a world
which lacks the old certainties of Christianity and Humanism. The
post-modern context is ruled by a relativity of values at all
levels. Out of the plethora of religious and ethical possibilities,
Celtic traditions, the nostrums of Merlin, orthodox faiths,
unorthodox creeds or North American native practices, which one
gives a meaning to me?

Inspite of the democratic tradition in the West a prime problem in
the arrival of Buddhism in the USA has been that the authoritarian
attitudes natural to traditional Eastern cultures have been passed
from Eastern teachers to those they appointed as first generation
Western "masters". Their conferred infallibility as an
"enlightened" person was often uncritically accepted by naive
westerners desperate to believe in a human representation of the
sublime but who, in the course of time, only discovered the
ridiculous. Some such teachers came to dominate the institutions
they led establishing neither democratic means for self-criticism
nor advisory boards to provide feedback. In many sad cases the
result has been the sexual exploitation of naive young followers of
both genders and severe financial irregularity. Furthermore, some
Oriental teachers themselves, succumbing to the permissiveness of
the West they failed to properly understand, also revealed
comparable faults. Clearly when such behaviour is revealed not only
is the validity of the transmission to teach called into question
but the whole system and the texts that sustain it become suspect.
Finally, not only have many men and women become disoriented and
distressed by the deceits practised upon them but authentic
teachers truly worthy of their titles are smeared by gossip,
suspicion and doubts.

What is authenticity ?

"Authenticity" has a range of overlapping meanings. The Oxford
English Dictionary gives:
        -real, actual or genuine as opposed to pretended;
        -original as opposed to copied;
        -proceeding from it's reputed source or author;
        -of established credit and genuineness;
        -in accordance with or as stating fact ;
        -having legal validity, authoritative.

There is also a usage in music meaning a sound or note belonging
appropriately to a scale, mode or melody. This meaning may be
extended to appropriateness of a verbal expression within a form of
discourse. An authentic statement is one that comes from the "
heart" expressing a genuinely held, unambivalent belief or
undistorted feeling.

Experiences that lack such characteristics are questionable, one
may doubt their validity and suspect that they stand in for
something else, a hidden agenda, motivation or bias. Yet how can
one be sure that an experience is genuine? Most experiences are
representations of internal and external circumstances in complex
relations that may easily be mistaken or incorrectly perceived. How
can we know that we know? Furthermore, how can we know when others,
especially teachers and guides of all kinds, are authentic in their
accounts of their experiences and practices? In what can we trust ?
In attempting to define ways of life appropriate to the problems of
these millennial years an understanding of what is and what is not
authentic is critical.

In the practice of psychotherapy the importance of the
"unconscious" and the power of repressed experience to modify
thought, behaviour and action has been well attested since Freud's
original work. Studies by Winnicot, Guntrip, Miller and many others
of the "object relations" school (6) have shown how negative
experiences in childhood create buried scenarios that fester in
repression creating attitudes, failures in self-knowledge and
behaviour severely debilitating to the practitioner and harmful to
his or her relationships in adult life.

The humanistic orientation in psychology emphasises the existential
realities of personal lives. In particular this view focuses on the
need to develop awareness, expression of feeling, capacities for
choice and relating all of which are seen as essential for
effective self-development in the expression of human potential. "A
person is authentic in that degree to which his being in the world
is unqualifiedly in accord with the given-ness of his own nature
and of the world. Authenticity is the primary good or value of the
existential viewpoint." (7) This perspective argues that authenticity
entails a way of being in the world in which the person is in
harmony with himself, others and the world. Inauthenticity means
conflict within self, with others and the world. Yet here the
idealisation of the term in language may become a danger.
Authenticity is no mere adaptation or some mystical transcendence.
Rather, we are concerned with a direct facing of the immediate
realities of life with a willed affirmation of difficulties, an
acceptance of them and their past origins and a letting go into a
pro-active acceptance of change. It is not inauthentic to be faced
with problems of ambivalence and paradox, indeed these are the very
food of life. Modern therapy is essentially any effective
interpersonal process that aids this process of comprehension and
personal change.

The living circumstances into which human beings are thrown have
been described in terms of four main issues; finiteness, potential
to act, capacity to choose, and the realisation of existential
aloneness. (8) We only have finite, limited understanding of ourselves
and the world and such understanding as we do have is contingent
upon circumstance, the availability of others, health and well
being, none of which can be taken for granted and none of which are
permanently available. We are subject to the "fate" into which we
are born and realise ourselves only briefly before death. Yet we
have a capacity for action and gradually realise our responsibility
for action in the world. No action can be perfect so we are faced
by the risk of condemnation and anxiety generated by guilt or
shame. We can only act within that context. So we have to choose a
path and in such choice we experience autonomy. Yet within that
very autonomy we experience our finite limitations and may thus be
faced by a sense of meaninglessness. Seeking a meaning beyond our
finite worlds we may get lost and experience such emptiness as a
great fear. Yet, even while we experience our loneliness we
discover we are not alone. We are "alone with others", as Steven
Batchelor puts it. (9) In this, however, there remains the threat of
the disappearance of the other or withdrawal from us leaving us in
total isolation. Such anxiety is terrifying and the terror genuine.

Inauthenticity, emotional dependency and the disintegrated self

The life task of every human individual is inevitably to confront
these uncomfortable truths of existence and to find the way through
the givens of personal limitation in a manner that evades pretence,
avoidance of difficulty and uncomplimentary truth to create an
authenticity of being and expression that is both accepting and
open. Perhaps that is what creativity is. The same task faces all
those would-be carers in the helping professions and to this we
must pay particular attention.

Therapeutic models and processes have struggled to find ways to
alleviate the difficulties individuals face in coming to terms with
these irreducible facts of life. Many have become caught in
behaviourist, cognitivist or other reductionist fallacies that fail
to meet the existential realities of human being. (10) Some therapies
of dubious or partial validity impose years of expensive time
consuming work often with little deep consequence. The burgeoning
market place of therapy has encouraged careerists who, in inventing
new glosses on old Freudian insights, often benefit their pockets
more than their clients. The creation of ever new therapeutic and
counselling methods all in competition with one another has created
a commercial world in which the selling of new dependencies
flourishes.

Inspite of the genuine concern, expertise and courageous dedication
of many therapists there is also emerging a puzzling inauthenticity
within the whole "business" that only occasionally receives a
degree of exposure. A skilled therapist may have a good idea, start
to promote it in a small way only to find that his/her clients
begin to develop wants to become therapists themselves. In such
contexts the cryptic power of the therapist's role and the issues
of transference may not have been adequately addressed. There thus
develops the temptation to start a school for therapists who may
well have been the sponsors' own clients. Such developments cannot
but be viewed with suspicion. What has been going on here ?

There has been a search for more direct methods less dependent on
long term therapist-client relationships and centred on self-help
often in group contexts. In this area work on chemical dependency
(alcohol and drug addiction) has begun to turn up valuable insights
of wide social application.

In working with addicts and their families it became apparent that
family members who look after, treat, placate or otherwise manage
the addicted person commonly show psychological symptoms of
excessive caring for others, reduced independence, fixated
referencing to family issues, depression and cagey if not dishonest
behaviour, lying about the family etc., which do not necessarily
improve when the alcoholic improves. The syndrome has become known
as co-dependence - the individual being dependent on the addiction
indirectly by way of a fixation on the addicted. There is often a
mutual or co-dependence between them.

It is now suspected that such a syndrome occurs widely in society
and not only in relation to chemical dependency. Anne Wilson Schaef (11)
considers it to be an aspect of a hydra-headed personality disorder
produced by addictive processes widespread in society.
Co-dependents have been defined as all persons in close emotional
relationships with alcoholics or who have alcoholic parents or
grandparents or who grow up in emotionally repressive families. (12)
Co-dependency has also been described as an emotional,
psychological and behavioural condition developing from prolonged
exposure to a set of oppressive rules determined by social
situations or family members which prevent the expression of
natural feelings as well as the discussion of personal family or
group problems. (13) It arises, therefore, as a set of coping skills
under an enforced restriction of emotional expression.

Others have argued that co-dependence operates not only in families
but in communities, businesses and institutions. Alcoholism thus
begins to look like a response to this condition, as an especially
negative coping skill in relation to forbidden or unexpressed
distress, rather than as an essential determinant of co-dependence.
If co-dependence is prior and as widespread as Whitfield (14) and Schaef
believe then I prefer to refer to it as emotional dependence, a
personality disorder that produces distortions in social
perception, behaviour and feeling in others as well as the prime
sufferer. It is socially infectious and socially tolerated. Its
presence in a group commonly remains unidentified. The problem
begins to emerge as truly vast.

Such distortions preclude an open awareness of personal problems
because these are filtered through a wide range of unconscious
pretences developed to prevent pain and distress. The individual
becomes addicted to these responses and the object relations within
which they occur due to the temporary and illusory relief they
provide. The repeated performance of these patterns provides an
illusory security as when someone who has lived for years with an
anxious mother comes to placate and attempt to relieve the tension
of significant others in life. With the mother such behaviour may
have been essential for the child to have survived at all but, in
adult life, the addiction to such a habit of security creation
becomes destructive of straightforward relationship.

Schaef's list of personal traits achieving such ends is formidable.
Emotional dependants are so focused on the activities of others
(which may include their health, their approval, their withdrawal
of control or punishment etc.) that they feel their own being to
have little or no meaning. The meaning of their lives comes from
outside and their intentionality is entirely determined by this.
Relationships tend to conform to a pattern in which the clinging
cannot be free from the clung. Personal boundaries are then so weak
that psychological invasion is inevitable, the emotionally
dependent quickly taking on the moods and responses of others. To
sustain their dependent relationships they are forever trying to
manage the impressions they make on others and are excessively and
cleverly sensitive to another's moods and adapt to meet them. The
insecurity and low self-esteem associated with such responses leads
to depression and the consequent induction of further dependence in
others who respond as carers. Caring for others is in this context
not a valuable and helpful trait, rather it is a protective
obsession designed to control the very one cared for and on whom
meaning has become dependent. Self-martyrdom and seeming
indispensability are actively cultivated to obsessive and
overworked degrees. To sustain this picture, dishonesty of
self-expression including active lying may become habitual - it
becoming quite impossible for such persons to say how it is for
them. The actual state of their distressed feelings is no longer
available for expression in any direct way and referencing all
activities on others becomes a form of endless self-concern.

These symptoms may appear in mild to severe forms of neuroticism.
In particular the widespread distribution of the milder versions
suggests that most carers may be suspected of being to a degree
emotionally dependent and caught in the very addictive process they
attempt to cure in others. Therapists, counsellors, ministers,
therapeutic colleagues may all be affected unknowingly thereby
basing their views of themselves on entirely inauthentic grounds.
Whitfield indeed argues that the "untreated professional" virtually
characterises the staff of caring institutions and may be
sustaining the malfunctioning of those they treat. Recent dramatic
examples may include the problems of responsibility in some cases
of False Memory Syndrome where the recall by adult children of
sexual abuse by parents has sometimes been shown to be due to an
induction of such belief by involvement with the therapist. Much
further research on this topic is essential.

We have reached a point where we are suggesting a condition of
society whereby individual and social malfunctioning is widespread.
While emotional repression and the disguising of motivation may
have had some functional value in the social environment of human
origins (15)  we must suspect that in the developed societies of modern
civilisations it can constitute a maladaptation through
informational distortion of a serious kind. We may therefore be
facing a "design fault" in our mode of social being that has been
present for millennia and to which we have yet to construct an
adequate remedy. (16) Certainly this appears to have been the view of
the Buddha 2500 years ago and to this we must now turn.

Authenticity and Buddhist discourse.

The Buddha was a man with vast experience of the yogic psychologies
and philosophies of his time which were both rich in content and in
debate. His personal search culminated in experiences which, as in
an experiment, confirmed the views he was developing. In his very
first sermon he argued that life was characterised by suffering,
that suffering was due to craving, wanting or, in other words,
addiction, and that it was possible to go beyond addiction by
following a careful path. This looks very relevant to our
discussion above.

His model of mind was essentially dynamic inspite of the rather
static way in which the abhidharma expresses it. Sensation,
perception and cognition build up the roots of conscious experience
and inference about the world. In addition however, and crucially
important, ongoing experience produces attempted solutions to
problems that become relatively fixed patterns of response. These
samskara are thus both the root of personal idiosyncrasy and also
the source of change. In that they are essentially volitional they
are both the repository of past karma and again the process wherein
karma projecting into the future can change.

We can see here a close similarity to the discussion of dependency
above. Karma distorts the appreciation of the present through
inducing habitual, biased prejudicial or destructive modes of being
that may have been valuable once as a response to a situation but
which, at a present moment, may be distorting, unrelated to what is
and thus illusory. The task therefore is to establish the mind in
the present actuality and penetrate the snares of karma so as to go
beyond them.

The discourses of the Buddha and subsequent Mahayana literature and
commentaries are all essentially discussions of this endeavour.
Sometimes leading into abstract phenomenological and metaphysical
philosophies the core remains a practice. Buddhist thought is
soteriological, designed to save; the take-home message is to
penetrate illusion wherever it arises for illusion is considered
widespread.

The main task advocated by the Buddha was to live "rightly"
according to the Eightfold Way and the means to doing this was
through the cultivation of awareness. The Maha Satipatthana Sutta (17)
gives very precise instructions which focus on meditative
attentiveness to the body, to the environment and eventually to the
way of life itself. It is clearly proposed that attentive awareness
is a tool with which to penetrate illusion. (18) It is essential first
to calm the mind and then to gain insight into its process so as to
distinguish the prejudiced from the authentic. From Satipatthana to
Mahamudra, to the Silent Illumination of Chan and the Koan
practice of the Japanese the essential quest is the same.

In Chan it is pointed out that attachment to quiet sitting,
however agreeable it may be, is a "cave of demons", an addiction to
tranquillity that must be broken up. The essential task of
awareness is not trance or samadhic states but the perception of
actuality directly. This means that in meditation one faces in
various ways the actuality of existence. Contemplating the koans is
one way of doing this.

The koans are paradoxical questions which cannot be answered but
which can be resolved. The most basic are the Who questions." Who
am I ?" Of course at one level one knows exactly who one is but, at
another, one realises much is hidden from one. There are several
contrasting ways of using Koans but the modern method developed by
Charles Berner and known as the "communication exercise" is
especially valuable for beginning Westerners and I use it as an
introduction to Chan ( Zen) in Western Zen Retreats at my centre
in Wales. (19) It leads through a vigorous examination of personal
illusions to an exhaustion of opinion and language in an immediate
apprehension of "just being." Finding this essential base line of
existence throws all other concerns into a realm of mere relativity
and the grip they have on one's life relaxes. Recalibration of a
practitioner's attitudes and action in life then becomes possible
from a phenomenological base that lies outside opinion. Since it
cannot come from another it is also a rediscovery of an essential
self and the basis for renewed autonomy.

The communication exercise is done in groups that divide into
couples, dyads, who sit together. Over a 30-40 minute period a bell
is rung every five minutes. In each five minute period one of the
partners asks the other his or her question which may be; " Tell me
who you are ?"; "Tell me what life is ?"; "Tell me what love is?'";
"Tell me what another is?; "Who is dragging this old corpse
along?"; " What was your face like before your parents were born?"
etc. Most beginners and many others use the "Who am I?"
formulation. It is basic. The practitioner works with his or her
question throughout the retreat unless a resolution appears. After
each period the partners change over. The rules are that the one
who is questioning never says anything other than the question,
only asks it a few times and maintains an open, interested
demeanour without expressions of encouragement or scepticism. The
one who answers is encouraged to respond in whatever way most truly
expresses his or her state of mind. This need not be by words
alone. The answerer is however asked to sustain contact with the
partner through frequent eye contact. The five minute alternation
imposes emotional discipline as each partner occupies in turn the
complimentary role to the other. The exercise is repeated over a
period of at least three days which, in the case of the Western Zen
Retreat (5 days) also includes exercise, meditative sitting
(zazen), meals, walks and periods in which the group process is
reviewed.

Individuals usually spend many hours describing their various roles
in life and their experiences in these roles. They then begin to
express their feelings under a range of remembered conditions until
some feeling is actually engendered in the present moment. To
express that feeling, sadness, tears, joy, anguish, self-doubt
directly is to give one self unreservedly to the other in trust.
This is especially difficult when feelings of guilt or shame are
around and a practitioner may spend many hours fearfully and
cunningly editing his responses to the question. Finally, unless
the practitioner is severely blocked, he trusts enough to share.
Such sharing rapidly becomes mutual and personal secrets of a
lifetimes duration may be shared for the very first time with
accompanying emotion.

It is a fact that the rehearsal of the past within the session does
not have to be repeated once full expression has been given to it.
It is as if the latent energy locked up in an issue has been
released. The consequence is a sensation of increasing freedom and
openness both of which probably relate to the rising levels of
trust in the group. Often, however, the flow of expression finally
dries up and there is a silence but no feeling of having resolved
the question. This is called " crossing the desert". It requires
sensitive reappraisal of all that has been said and maybe just
silent musing and waiting. The role of the retreat director or
"master" is to interview practitioners and to interact with them in
such a way as to facilitate their process. Naturally this requires
considerable skill and imagination. The role cannot be undertaken
by an untrained or an inappropriately trained person.

When the practitioner is fortunate, has managed to focus the
question well and penetrated blockages the result is a gradual or
sudden awareness that he or she is everything that has been said
and, since the negative energies associated with the themes of life
have been ex-pressed, there is a glowing sense that what one is is
indeed alright after all. There is a moment of relief and
acceptance in which the question drops away. One "knows" who one is
in the same way that one "knows" water only when she tastes it.
Such a person may be very joyful and experience a number of states
of consciousness that may be entirely new - a spacious clarity,
bliss, love, emptiness; words which in truth have meaning only for
those who have been to the same spaces.

Most of these experiences are moments of personal integration
around a sense of total oneness with what one is. In Zen this is
called the "one man." (20) Such work facilitates but cannot in itself
produce the experience known as satori or kensho in which
self-reference itself disappears so that, "empty headed", one
simply regards the world as it is, unfiltered, all personal bias
gone. Such an experience, usually felt to be of inestimable value,
may be said to arise through "grace" since any egoistic quest for
it is bound to fail.

The ego cannot lose itself, it sometimes just gets lost. The
practitioner is overcome by emptiness in much the way one may
suppose that a blackbird is overcome by its song. Such rare moments
are known as "enlightenment experiences". Because the texts
consider these events desirable, practitioners naturally but
mistakenly make a great effort to attain them: with the result that
many such claims may be invalid. Most such experiences are probably
of the "one man " type.

I believe this is also true of the results of the other meditation
methods in Zen. Master Sheng-yen doubts, for example, whether many
of the so called satoris in Japanese Rinzai Zen retreats are really
such. In discussing the effects of the "Enlightenment Intensive" of
Charles Berner, which uses the Communication Exercise exclusively,
Roshi Kennet felt that most of them would have been" satori
orgasms" - that is to say emotionally induced experiences. In both
cases it seems likely that most such outcomes are likely to be
experiences of the "one man " type induced by the stresses of such
retreats. Some masters may collude in passing responses to koans as
successes.

In fact all notion of success or failure in relation to kensho is
illusory. Such events may occur spontaneously as the natural
mysticism described in the writings of Walt Whitman, Richard
Jefferies and Krishnamurti attests. Indeed many people may have had
such an experience without being able to perceive its nature or its
value. This is perhaps likely to be particularly true of those
whose work in the country involves manual labour of skills
requiring high present attention- rustic sages as it were. (21)
Training is thus significant after all and Master Sheng-yen argues
that for an experience to merit the label "kensho" it needs to
occur with reference to a Zen perspective, otherwise the conceptual
frame of the event is insufficient. (22)

The process of Zen training appears to involve a number of steps:

1) Direct acknowledgement of how one is, however negative that may
be. One simply says "Yes" to the negativity and holds it in the
frame of meditative focus.

2) When the matter is sufficiently
explored, the negative emotional energies tend to resolve
themselves and die down as the practitioner penetrates their
meaning in an acceptance of personal inadequacy. This of course
does not mean approval of oneself.

3) Once this acceptance is total
then, in a natural humility, the practitioner simply knows who and
what he is. In such acceptance, energy ( chi or prana) flows free
and a positive yet curiously apophatic (23) self-affirmation arises. In
time one can then face another question, "How is life fulfilled?"

Needless to say the habits of a lifetime are unlikely to be totally
removed in one go and repeated training and the development of day
to day mindfulness are also required. Those who think an experience
of the type described is sufficient to break their habitual
illusions are deluding themselves. To realise that Zen means long
term cultivation is for practitioners in a hurry an unwelcome
surprise. Furthermore, the very texts and ritualistic imagery of
traditional Buddhism may need challenging in the way the ancient
masters have always told practitioners to do.

It looks nonetheless as if the practise of Buddhist meditation when
skilfully taught and directed (24) may have a considerable effect in
breaking up the social addictions that are the cause of so much
misery. The stages of acknowledgement, acceptance, realisation in
humility and self-affirmation have much in common with the Twelve
Steps recommended as training in recovery from emotional
dependency. (25) These include: admitting that life has become
unmanageable; making a fearless inventory of oneself, acceptance of
one's negativities and awareness of their powerfully addictive
nature; continual cultivation of such awareness, direct attempts to
make amends in life and the placing of the whole endeavour within a
spiritual context believing in the possibility of higher power and
its influence for good. Here the Christian would refer to God, the
Buddhist to the Three Refuges. These parallels suggest an important
convergence between contemporary psychotherapeutic insight into the
social processes of our time and the ancient wisdom of Buddhism. On
this basis much could be built.

Authenticity in Zen Practice

The pervasiveness of emotional dependency is no new thing. It
invades the practice of spirituality at all levels. As Christians
might say- the devil is cunning indeed. The sensationalism of the
modern media and the gossipy desire for the exposure of fault at
all levels in society - so characteristic of the mediocre
attempting to justify themselves - lead to endless accounts of
inauthenticity in church and state. A reading of Chaucer shows such
faults to be no new thing but the modern addiction to journalistic
social pornography has produced a debilitating and depressive
process in which the potential for good in anything is undermined
by its inevitable lack of perfection. Yet the press performs a
valuable function. We cannot pretend to ourselves for long and the
appearance of iniquities among Buddhist lamas and masters who
should be the exemplars of their tradition has been a shock to
many. We need to examine it critically.

The Master

In the Mahayana tradition the lama or master, the guru, was to be
treated with total devotion as an infallible teacher. This was
conceivable because such a one had attained enlightenment through
his or her practice and received a transmission to teach from his
own teacher, a person of the same quality. That which was to be
transmitted was nothing less than the enlightenment of Buddha
himself coming down through the ages. From this notion came the
significance of lineage and the vital importance of ensuring the
purity of transmission.

We have here at least the scriptural tradition. Individual teachers
were often much more reticent, being aware of their faults and
showing a genuine humility. Indeed it was this humility and
personal discipline through loyalty to the terms of practice
inherent in transmission that preserved the idea as valid in the
training of others.

Clearly the validity of this viewpoint could only be maintained if
the behaviour of lamas and masters was indeed inspiring and
irreproachable. The Rimpoche, precious jewel, really had to be
above the common herd if he was to function as the tradition
demanded. Doubtless falls from grace were commonly observed but the
institutional framework of peer supervision among monastics usually
corrected or managed these faults and the regard with which common
people treated their teachers suggests this was usually both
successful and authentic. (26)

The arrival of such teachers in the West gave rise to problems. The
fantasy world of the hippy generation, courageous and searching as
it was, needed holy teachers to represent the sublime. There was a
need for such a person to combat the horrors of our time and the
post-modern shift in the Euro-American scene with its rampant
scepticism and subscription to ethical relativity. There was need
for spiritual dependency.

Tibetan and Japanese teachers came from a monastic world, highly
disciplined, authoritarian, with supervision from peers and
teachers alike and little opportunity to know the world outside the
walls. The monasteries were supported by the local population and
by land owners or nobility through social subscription, gifts of
land, service to monks of many kinds and unquestioning faith. (27) In
the West such teachers found a questioning faith, multiple ethical
and religious positions, no authority apart from self yet great
dependency need. They themselves were usually cut off from both
their own teachers and from their peers and the walls were paper
thin. Furthermore, the most usual centres in which they worked were
not monasteries. For the most part they were centres offering
meditation instruction to lay people of varying ability,
understanding and degrees of social neuroticism sustained by
fluctuating and uncertain sources of finance much subject to shifts
in fashion.

James Low and I once interviewed Zhabdrung Rimpoche in his north
Indian home. Unlike many of the traditional Tibetans with whom we
had been working this Bhutanese lama, the reincarnation of former
religious rulers of Bhutan, had led a troubled life of political
exile for many years under risk of assassination. He was fluent in
English and knew the West well. He was extremely critical of his
fellow lamas who taught in the West. He argued that the tendency to
create large organisations with a high profile lama as guru was
typically Western and detrimental to true understanding. Such lamas
become figures of fame, spiritual celebrities who jet set around
the world from one idolising centre to another, spending little
time in each and knowing their many followers only in occasional
brief encounters.

"The true guru-pupil relationship is between two people who get to
know one another intimately. The disciple can then be of value to
the guru through reflecting the latter's faults. It is important
that the disciple should be free to be critical from his side
within his devotion and to share his feelings with his teacher. In
this way a teacher keeps in touch with his own defects. Where a
teacher retains a footing in his tradition his fellow monks will
keep him in order. Where teachers in the West have cut this
connection and gone flying off on their own they can substitute
fluency in Western culture for an in depth understanding of their
own original practice. Although a lama may have received initiation
for personal practices unless he maintains them he can lose contact
with their meaning. Such a person's spiritual growth has become
superficial and lacking in comprehension of some of the
difficulties involved in transmission. Initiations he gives may
then have little power and may open their recipient to delusion." (28)

Much the same can be said of Zen masters coming from Japan. It is
significant that so far Western Theravada monks have been immune
from these criticisms. This is because they have established
genuine disciplined monasteries in the West with tough old abbots
well able to keep order and respect so that a deviant simply opts
to disrobe. From this comparison there is perhaps much to be
learnt.

From 1975 a series of scandals has erupted in both Zen and Tibetan
institutions in America and to a lesser extent ( there are fewer of
them ) in this country (UK).The details of these are mostly well
known now and need not be reviewed except in outline here. The
Western teachers had all received transmission from Japanese or
Tibetan masters and therefore held the lineages they represented.
Their followers, imbued with devotion, allowed these men to become
authoritarian rulers, real bosses, of the institutions they ran.
They received little feedback or criticism and were treated as
beyond reproach. Soon covert sexual liaisons with students were
revealed, relationships, literally cases of spiritual incest,
commonly deeply disturbing and damaging to the young people
involved. The extent of sexual predation by some of these teachers
was extraordinary. Such activities became associated with lying and
the misuse of funds. Once the scandal broke their institutions
became divided by factionalism concerning the best course of action
to take. Some individuals whose faith had been broken in this way
became severely distressed not knowing where to turn. Sometimes
elaborate cover ups were engaged upon, the teachers not being
reprimanded or corrected by their own teachers or monastic order.
Some Oriental teachers themselves also committed similar
misdemeanours causing comparable anguish. (29)

A major puzzle revolves around the question how can it be that a
person who has received from a master a recognition of his or her
"enlightenment" and transmission to teach within a lineage behaves
in this way ? There seems to be no reason to doubt the original
insight of such a person nor the fact that this was recognised by
an Eastern teacher in eye to eye contact. The error lies in the
supposition that past karma is wiped out by such an event. Zen
scriptures are sometimes unclear on this issue but early Buddhism
makes a clear distinction. Enlightenment is indeed a breakthrough
beyond the self but afterwards the karmic traces reassert
themselves and need constant attention. It is said that even the
Buddha spent his life following enlightenment working through the
traces of his former karma. A person who has had deep experience in
Buddhism may remain problematic in his or her ethical dimension.
Eastern masters have perhaps paid insufficient attention to the
vital importance of precepts, personal values and vows in
transmitting Zen in America. A brilliant insightful pupil may be
ethically unsound in everyday life especially when subject to the
stress of becoming a master without local supervision.

Master Sheng-yen distinguishes clearly between the recognition of
kensho and the transmission to teach. The former confers no
authority- it is simply a mutual understanding between master and
disciple. The giving of transmission does not depend on this alone
but also upon the moral character of the practitioner, his/her
continued training, capacity to teach and opportunity to do so in
terms of pupils being available and willing and the existence of
material circumstances within which teaching may occur. (30)

The answer to these problems clearly lies in a radical overhaul of
the structure of Western institutions led by teaching masters.
Democratic criticism, the formation of advisory boards, open
discussion of personal matters and careful auditing of finance are
all obvious remedies. As important however, as Lachs has pointed
out, is a critical appraisal of key themes in Mahayana Buddhism.
What exactly does Master or Lama mean ? What is a monk? Should the
rules for monks and nuns be the same or different? What is
transmission? What indeed is enlightenment?

Current Western scholarship, developing biblical criticism in the
Buddhist context and in detailed study of history through ancient
textual material, is revealing how the meaning of such terms has
varied through the long Buddhist history thus raising questions as
to the best way to interpret and use them today. Such scholarship
is to be welcomed although the danger of developing an arid
understanding without a life of devotion has to be avoided.
Reducing bibles to "texts" can take the life out of them.

I cannot finish this section without an appreciation of those many
outstanding teachers, Eastern and Western, men and women, who in
their authenticity have brought and continue to bring the wisdom of
Buddhism to our shores. This very critique of developments that
many of them could not have suspected is a tribute to their
success.

Renunciation and the monkhood

Although the Buddha left teachings for the laity he clearly focused
primarily on the training of the Sangha, the body of monks or "
left-home-ones." To become a monk one forsakes all the activities
and relationships of lay life- celibacy, no companionship with the
opposite sex, no drinks, perfumes, high beds, dancing etc. and etc.
into a great list of restrictions. From a lay perspective the
precepts of a monk appear to be highly onerous yet their intention
is to give the practitioner an especial freedom - freedom from the
addictions of lay life.

Yet joining the Sangha could never be the path for everyone because
somebody had to provide support for it, this had to come from the
donations of laity. Somebody had to procreate, have babies, run
businesses, rule the country, provide food. None of this was the
business of the Sangha. Yet the relationship was not intended to be
one sided. The Sangha in its turn benefited the laity through
providing them with opportunities for earning merit through
supplying monks and monasteries with the wherewithal of daily life,
through giving sons to monasteries as novices, through financing
long liturgies. Merit was a means whereby individuals could ensure
a higher rebirth - and that usually meant birth into a higher
caste. The old Indian system was still very much alive although the
Buddha was clearly not one of its supporters and the Sangha was in
principle at least open to all castes.

Was there a deeper meaning to "merit"? Did the selfless behaviour
and psychological wisdom of the monks provide insight, peace of
mind and education to the laity? Plausibly yes, although the
scriptures do not emphasise this point. In traditional Ladakh monks
often function as shaman in ceremonies to control weather, benefit
crops, effect cures. The wisdom of Rimpoches is sought in the
selection of lha-bas, the healer oracles who operate in trance, and
many matters of local ethics and social valuation are settled in
conference with monks. They are ethical arbiters within the
society.

Yet, in contemporary Ladakhi villages monks are also judged for
their goodness. False monks who sell monastery property, defraud
their clients or behave excessively in any way are treated with
scorn and disrespected. Maintenance of an authentic role is
essential.

In Zen, monks work their own lands and do their own labour. It was
this that allowed the Chan sects to survive various holocausts in
China when other orders dependent on the receipt of gifts went
under. Zen scriptures use labour as a motif in teaching. Dogen, who
brought Soto Zen to Japan, learnt much from cooks whom he met in
China. The way a monk worked illustrated his capacity for
mindfulness.

Mindfulness is the means whereby monks sustain their discipline. As
in the corrective training of the army "glasshouse" attention to
detail is the focus of the disciplinary regime. Why should anyone
find the monkish life attractive? It seems to be fact that many
young monks coming from lowly families, as indeed did the Dalai
Lama, suffer no harm from being reared after infancy by men alone.
They often turn out to be remarkable meditators, scholars,
teachers, friends with a surety of self-possession that most would
admire. It is the motherliness of these mindful monks free from the
daily anxieties of village mothers that perhaps plays a key role in
achieving this.

The practice of meditative mindfulness within the freedom of
sustained discipline takes a monk through the stages we have
discussed above. He thus comes to know blissful states of conscious
awareness that are rare among the laity. The disciplined freedom
from social addiction allows a relative "enlightenment" that gives
them an unique charisma and beneficial social influence in a strife
torn world.

Modern Western Buddhists rarely contemplate becoming monks nor as
yet are there many suitable institutions to receive them. Only the
Theravada goes quite vigorously down this path. Western
practitioners of Tibetan Buddhism and Zen are predominantly members
of the laity.

What is Lay Zen ? (31) A lay practitioner has not given up the pursuit
of material delights and continues to " keep up with the Jones" in
a social competitiveness that may creep into his Dharma expression.
Yet he or she pretends to follow scriptures and practises clearly
designed for " left- home-ones". It is little wonder that they may
find the practices unrewarding or difficult when the rest of life
is devoted to work, play, arguing with the wife or worrying about
the children. Such practitioners may become "hobbyist" Buddhists (32)
who may soon depart to investigate some more promising path
enhancing in some subtle way their spiritual egoism.

The dependency of the Western laity on their teachers is
understandable since they give themselves so little opportunity to
actually experience Dharma practice. For a lay person the only way
to approximate to monastic training and hence gain some of the
insights available to monastics is through intensive retreat, not
once but many times. They then find that change becomes apparent.
Not only do they begin to " taste the chocolate", as Lama Thubten
Yeshe used to say, that is benefit from conscious states of joy and
peace, but they begin to recalibrate their lives quite naturally
around actions beneficial to themselves and, crucially, also to
others. Life gets happier whatever falling aside may also from time
to time occur. The vows begin to take on meaning as progressive
change becomes apparent. The illusion of chasing enlightenment
experiences or expecting spiritual rewards and the favours of
charismatic masters subsides in a realisation that the grind of
cultivation is essential. In such authentic practice monk and
layman become indistinguishable in the perspective of Zen.

Understanding Dharma

Many of those who attend meditation classes at Buddhist centres are
coming to benefit themselves through improving their self-image. To
assume an identity as a Buddhist makes one feel better as a member
of a positive group in the swim of the current "turn on". Unaware
of Buddhist teaching they do not see this as merely another form of
the addiction to self-interest.

Others come for their health or to reduce mental stress. Certainly
meditation is relaxing, may save one from a heart attack, gives one
a new perspective on life. And none of this lacks merit. These are
sound things to do - but they are not Buddhism - and in particular
they are not Zen.

Even those who practice intensively and come on difficult retreats
requiring will power and disciplined determination may not yet have
any insight into the teachings. It is thus vital that anyone
training in Zen quickly attempts to gain some insight into the
message of the Buddhas. Basic Buddhism is fortunately expressed in
a number of relatively simple and memorable formulae- the Four
Noble Truths, the Eightfold Way, the Four Vows, the Ten Precepts,
the Principle of Interdependent Causation. These need digestion and
contemplation. From here topics such as Impermanence, Emptiness,
and the meaning of meditative practice may be entered from a firm
base.

The Dharma never constitutes dogma in the way that the Bible or the
Koran is often used. Buddhist teachings are suggestions, signposts
for those who wish to test them out. The Buddha's last injunction
was not to follow his teachings mindlessly but to "work out your
own salvation with diligence" .The practice gradually becomes more
meaningful and one can test it out in day to day living. Although
reading books and scholarship can be helpful, we are in the West
today beyond the book addiction phase of development. Opportunities
for real practice and receiving sound teaching are now available in
most cities of the realm and there are a range of teachers to
evaluate. Hobbyism does not express authentic interest for it is
merely playing games with spiritual ambitions.

In personal practice

At a weekly meeting someone comes up to me and says something like
-"I'm sorry John I have not been able to do my evening half hour
all week !" Others may only attend retreats when a famous or
charismatic Eastern master is running it. Needless to say such
persons find retreat more difficult than they need. Someone else
may object -" People have troublesome enough lives as it is - why
make retreats so difficult for them. We could get up at 6 am rather
than 4. You could attract more participants that way!"

All such attitudes miss the point of Zen. The ego craves
self-esteem. We want to do things that make us feel well regarded.
When one friend found that he was not going to become a Zen rabbi
quickly on retreat he gave it all up. The toughness of Zen is
deliberate for it provides in microcosm those confrontations to
self that are always with us - but gives us them in a context where
they demand recognition and reflective management through insight.
Little things like worrying about the place one will get at the
meal table: Did I have enough to eat ? Am I going to have time for
a shower ? Do I have time for a banana before Shifu closes the
meal ? Can I have a pee within the next half hour ? Can I stand
this aching knee for another ten minutes? Oh Oh When will the bell
go? Poor me, I am such a noble sitter. Such questions are not
nonsensical but the way they invade the mind shames one into a
recognition of their addictive nature. The training is to "let
through, let be, let go". Negativity arises, it is comprehended, it
is released. Meditation continues. Not at all easy. The mill wheel
of the addicted mind spins on taking its time to come to rest. One
begins to learn patience- with oneself.

Such training in self-recognition not only reveals gradually the
benefits of intensive practice but can also be transferred into
everyday circumstances - shopping, washing up, going to work,
whatever it may be. And it is for this reason that on retreat one
is told to be "present" not only on one's cushion but when cutting
carrots or filling oil lamps. I was once reminded that in washing
up the enormous pots and pans in Throssel Hole Priory kitchen that
I should do it as if I was arranging an altar. The mind should
never be somewhere else. When no-one is cutting carrots yet carrot
cutting is happening in clarity and with precision one is making
progress. The rest is idle self- concerned chatter. If one does
these things insights sometimes come quite suddenly, surprising one
with joy.

In the result

Success is not success. Failure is not failure. Someone who has
experiences on retreat that are deeply rewarding is often at great
risk. Self-congratulation sets in, followed perhaps by comparison
with those others struggling away not knowing who they are and then
by a subtle pride that immediately denies itself. Master Sheng-yen
says that pride and low self-esteem are the opposite ends of the
same road - the road of ego involvement. To get off that road
altogether is often difficult for the successful practitioner.
Perhaps fortunately, good experiences are commonly followed by bad
ones. A wonderful insight-yielding retreat may be followed by a
gloomy depressive one. The practitioner simply has to learn, often
painfully, that that's the way things are - not only in Buddhism
but in everyday life. As is said Zen is no different from everyday
life. It is the attitude that counts.

There was once an individual who had a profound experience which he
decided was enlightenment. He therefore proclaimed himself a Zen
master and began to run workshops. These were powerful events for
he indeed had talents as a group facilitator. I was phoned by one
of his adherents asking did I want to meet a real Zen Master. I
found this man to have experienced no training under a qualified
Zen master, to have never attended retreat, to have no respect for
lineage or tradition and to be touchy when faced with searching
questions. Such a person is like someone who awards himself a cap
after playing a practice game.

Another individual who had trained well with the Tibetans and who
had undoubted attainments both in meditative skill and teaching
ability suddenly began to promote himself through various assumed
titles right up to Rimpoche. Since he actually had some wisdom- why
these games? Here an addiction to personal image would seem to be
rampantly in play. The inauthenticity is damaging to the lineage in
which he works.

A fine Tibetan teacher, trained in Lhasa, has reputedly taken to
having himself described as a Buddha. Need I say more. When such
affectations can overcome even the great and good it behoves us
lesser mortals to take care. Self-deluding teachers, self-deluding
helpers, self-deluding pupils are all caught up in a linked set of
difficulties.

Authentic self-acceptance has nothing to do with either pride or
self-reproach. It is the straightforward recognition of how things
are. The practitioner simply moves along as best he or she can with
whatever presents itself. Occupying the present with such presence
is authentic being.

Honesty and "One great mistake after another "

Buddhist practice begins and ends with honesty, but this honesty is
not easy to achieve. There is ordinary honesty and insightful
honesty. The latter arises when through some form of training the
illusions that bedevil one's life have at least to a degree been
recognised and some progress in relieving them achieved. We have
argued that much of human behaviour is inauthentic in the sense
that insightful honesty is not available. In Buddhism this is the
state of "not seeing " or ignorance. In both Buddhism and within
the modern concern at the state of society, individuals are seen to
be often addicted to patterns of thought, feeling and behaviour
that have arisen in some familial or social circumstance in the
past, patterns the Buddhists refer to as karma. The pain involved
in coming to self-recognition often seems extraordinary and working
with it may remain problematic.

The attempt to reach the "enlightenment" of a straightforward
relationship with the world involves practice on a hard path full
of illusory successes and failures. Sometimes whatever a
practitioner does it seems to fail or to have no effect. Sometimes
success leads to another experience of failure. The mind is
extremely tricky - a maddened monkey as some have said. Whether one
is attempting to work with oneself or with others it is never
possible to be sure that the path taken is the right one. One time,
walking in those wonderful hills above Green Gulch Farm north of
San Francisco, I was discussing how to teach Zen with the Abbot of
the monastery there, Reb Anderson. He remarked that he had found
that if you say one thing it is bound to be wrong and if you say
its opposite you will find that is wrong too. Whatever you say is
likely to be wrong. To be silent may be no help either. One simply
goes ahead in trust as best one may. Here is the fundamental
honesty of the Zen position. You try it and see - in a trust that
knows you may be wrong. Only the authentic self can do that in the
faith that has lasted two thousand five hundred years. As some
master said in defining Zen-"One great mistake after another."


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2 See Low J, 1990. Buddhist developmental psychology. In: Crook, J.H.
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3 See discussions in Crook, J.H. and J, Low. 1996 in press. The
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4 See discussion in Buswell, R. E.1983. The Korean Approach to Zen:
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5 Lachs, S. 1994.  A slice of Zen in America. New Chan Forum
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7 Bugenthal, J.F.T.1965. The search for Authenticity: An
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8 Bugenthal, see note 7 above.

9 Batchelor, S. 1983. Alone with Others: An existential approach to
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10 Harré, R and G. Gillett. 1994. The Discursive Mind. Sage. London

11 Schaef. A. W. loc cit .

12 Wegscheider Cruse, S. 1984. Co-dependency-the therapeutic void. In:
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13 See discussions  by  R. Subby and others in Co-dependency - an
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14 Whitfield, C.1984. Co-dependency -an emerging issue among
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16 Crook, J.H. 1995. Psychological Processes in Cultural and Genetic
   Coevolution. In: Jones, E and V. Reynolds.(Eds)

17 Survival and Religion : Biological Evolution and Cultural Change.
   Wiley. London. For a wide ranging discussion see Berman, M. 1989
   Coming to our senses; body and spirit in the hidden history of the
   West.  Unwin .London. See Ling, T.1981.The Buddha's Philosophy of
   Man Early Indian Buddhist Dialogues.Dent.London pp71-85 (
   translation)

18 For a contemporary exploration of this viewpoint see Blackmore, S.
   1995. Paying attention.New Chan Forum. Issue 12.

19 Berner created this approach through comparing the practice of zen
   interview with a master with co-counselling . He invented a group
   workshop called the "Enlightenment Intensive" which uses this
   method exclusively.I was taught this method and to run intensives
   by Jeff Love in the 1970s. Berner has made some revisions to it
   since and such events are still offered from time to time. Berner
   has provided a manual  for those directing such events.

20 The "True man of the Way." See Schloegl . I.1975.The Zen Teaching
   of Rinzai.  Shambala. Berkeley.

21 Crowden, J. 1996. Mind in Agriculture. New Chan Forum .Issue 12.
   The term 'rustic sages' I owe to John Clark's 1983 A Map of  Mental
   States.Routledge and Kegan Paul.

22 Master Sheng-yen is the director of the Institute of Chung Hwa
   Buddhist Culture in New York and Taipei. He  leads retreats in New
   York and has done so three times at my centre in Wales. I have
   participated in ten of his training retreats and continue to work
   with him.He has published many books on Chan.

23 Apophatic: Stating things negatively as in "no-mind" or "emptiness."

24 This caveat requires close examination as the next section of this
   article will make clear.

25 Schaef , A.. W. loc cit  p 30

26 Shengpen Hookham writes to me (in litt) that any qualified lama
   (guru), whether a recognised incarnate "tulku" or not, can use the
   title "rimpoche" but, although there are no hard and fast rules,
   this usage is normally bestowed only on a high ranking teacher.
   Peer pressure means that teachers would not normally  adopt such a
   title unless they felt their peers would support it. Peer pressure
   is probably mostly indirect. Lamas do tend to behave in more
   culturally subscribed ways in the company of other Tibetans. There
   is much more direct supervision among Tibetan yogins. "Yogis seem
   to recognise each other on a deeply intuitive level and advise each
   other from that standpoint." Yogis of high reputation are known and
   sought out for instruction. Among yogis the title "rimpoche" is
   rarely used and "tulkus" as such are of little interest to them
   because the latter have not often received yogic training.

27 For examples and review see the chapters on monastic life in Crook,
   J.H. and H. Osmaston (Eds). 1994. Himalayan Buddhist Villages.
   Bristol University and Motilal Banarsidass. Delhi.

28 Crook, J.H. and J. Low.1996.  In press. The Yogins of Ladakh.
   Motilal Banarsidass. Delhi.  p 248.

29 See Lachs, S. 1994. loc cit.

30 See Sheng-yen, Master.1994.  Transmitting the Lamp. New Chan
   Forum. Issue 9.

31 Over the last year the Bristol Chan Group has been asking this
   question and members are attempting tentative answers. Some
   American masters and their followers have also addresed this issue.
   See New Chan Forum, Issues 10, 11,12. Also: Abe, M. 1985. Zen and
   Western thought. MacMillian. London  Kraft, K.1988. Zen:tradition
   and transition - an overview of Zen in the modern world. Rider
   London. Tworkov, H. 1989. Zen in America; profiles of  five
   teachers. North Point Press. San Francisco.

32 A term used by Simon Child in his article above. New Chan Forum
   Issue 13.


Acknowledgements.  I am grateful to all those who have helped me
realise the extent of my own emotional dependencies and led me to
sustain continuing work on such vexation. Carol Evans introduced me
to the current literature on co- dependence and additionally Ken
Jones, Peter Reason, S. K. Hookham and John Pickering have
commented helpfully on the text. My understanding of Zen , such as
it is , owes much to Master Sheng-yen whose exemplary personal
stance and masterly teachings are an inspiration in these troubled
times. An especial debt is owed to all those hard working
practitioners who attend  the demanding retreats at the Maenllwyd
and whose resiliance and authenticity command my respect and
appreciation.To work with you all is an inspiration in an often
difficult task.




                                Welsh Winter: Maenllwyd


                                Grey stone mountain
                                rain
                                and the gathering fogs
                                Drip drip the gutters
                                and the gurgling stream.
                                Two ravens out of the mirk
                                strut about warily
                                not seeing the face behind the window,
                                deftly grabbing a wad of rice
                                fly off into cloud.
                                Dark light at noon
                                no sign of sun,
                                full moon falteringly filtering
                                through the dismal night.
                                Warm and muggy
                                Welsh winter
                                washing itself away .


Not very good weather we're having !

                                        No o.

Better 'an snow tho.
                                        Not so sure
                                        Cold's a better time
                                        ice and hoar frost
                                        bright days.

S'long as you're not driving isn't it ?

                                        Aai .

Can't expect much else, mind you
the time of the year.
I always say !

                                        Sheep OK ?

Damp's no good for the feet like
but woolly coats does 'em fine.
Look cheerful enough don't ey ?
Up on your tod then - nobody with you ?
Meditation is it ?
Ah - wri-ting too then. Well
quiet enough up here 
for sure.
Time to get on with it-
up the hill for a look round.
Missus'l be waiting for her tea.
Til next time then - is it .




Grey day
day barely day
cold wind slicing the grasses
puddles iced, walking with caution 
ears and fingers freeze.
I puff on my hands.
                                   Cold mist 
                                   clings to the hill side trees,
                                   no sky at all, dull light
                                   draining colour from the land.
                                   Deep in their roots
                                   sycamores sleep 
                                   bare twigs clutching at the wind.

Hull down in hollows 
sheep are motionless,
backs to breeze
shrammed heifers stand like statues,
where no sun rises
hoar frost lies on the land.

                                   Down a hedgerow 
                                   evening Blackbird squawks 
                                   despondency,
                                   Crows pass lolling on the wind
                                   watchful, waiting.

A time for ghosts
howling down the whitened hills
maddened in the grey freeze.
Deep in my hearth now
frosty fire tongues leap
at the coming night.

                                   John Crook       1993-1996
       



RETREAT REPORT

We are grateful to retreat participants for writing so honestly
about their experiences on retreat. This gives us valuable help in
understanding the retreat process. These reports also provide some
insight into the difficulties and benefits of attending a retreat.
We continue to publish these accounts anonymously. We regret that
we are unable to publish everything that we receive.

A "TING" OF THE BELL

Western Zen Retreat. October 1995

We arrived after an incredibly long journey from the north with
scattered brain experiences and a chip shop repast. Was this my
last meal as a normal human being? The farmhouse seemed a
ridiculously long way from the road. And those gates! We seemed to
be travelling deeper and deeper into the mountain but perhaps I was
entering more deeply into myself. Voices, torchlight. I recognised
John immediately although I had never seen him. Oh well- this was
it then!

Belongings were carried up ladders, bed spaces decided. Aloneness
seeped into my being as I began the Zen of air-bed inflation. The
same motion over and over again. The same eeeh-wah with every
movement. Would I end up like Eeyore losing my tail and being
alternately depressed and pompous? Perhaps there was something in
the Tao of Pooh after all? Comfort creation exhausted I joined the
throng downstairs, played spot the anxiety, looked at people,
listened to them. Realisation dawned. They were all southerners!
More depression, separation, isolation. Yet in the midst of this a
wild Scottish voice was telling me that the previous year had been
"orgasmic". I tucked this into the back of my skull for solace.

We played the "Lets pretend we know who we are game. I'm blah. I
live in Blah. I carve vegetables for a hobby and the reason why I
am here is . . . ." Why was I here? Why? I told my first
disconsolate truth, "I don't really know why I have come. " Rules
explained; bells; hammers; knockings; wooden clappers. A sharp
intake of breath at the 5 am thing. An even sharper one at the idea
that a cup of tea after morning exercises was a soft western
luxury. My first entry to the Chan hall. The recitation of the
opening ceremony. A wrenching of my heart and throat. Of course I
knew why I was there. The willingness to confront personal demons,
go through the process in the trust that it would be alright. A
hope that I might be more whole as a result. Bed; the skylight full
of stars; an unrecognised glimpse of the eternal and little sleep.

I lay there waiting for the morning knock. It was a relief to get
up. Lots of clothes. Where were those lavatories? Would it be OK to
pee outside? Who would see me in the dark anyway? Exercises- soft
western ones in case we were not Zen enough to run up the hill!
Tea. Zendo. "I put my trust in Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. " Zazen.
Forty minutes". What did he mean? Forty minutes? Did it mean fifty,
sixty later in the day? Mental anguish. "Make your Minds Bright!"
What a brilliant phrase. How do you do it? Forty minutes, not too
much pain.

Breakfast. Sunlight. Refectory. Oh no - Chinese monks' gruel. But
wait. Fruit and nuts in it. Sugar, honey, bread and jam. And
blessed tea. I discovered I could eat porridge. Talk about things
happening when you're ready! "At one with the food we eat---. "

Work in the kitchen. How do you discover the way the Cook wants the
onions chopped when communicating in silence? I thought I knew how
to chop onions-to do it mindfully, watching the knife slicing
through to the board- the Zen thing, cut onion, carry water.
Actually chopping onions mindfully just meant getting them all done
in time to the Cooks specification without slicing my fingers. This
realisation came later.

Rest period equating with a parabolic surge of panic about keeping
my mind bright or at least my body still for the next three and a
half hours. Stillness alternated with pain in the legs. My mind,
bright enough certainly, observed itself-suffering. Emotional,
physical and induced by an inability to talk and moan. By 11. 30 I
resolved to speak to the Guestmaster about postures. Pain and
suffering settling in for the day.

Lunch. Onion soup of course. Polite and not eating much because my
throat was all tight from not weeping. I was heaping coals on the
fire of suffering.

More rest. The amazing comfort of a blanket around my legs. Even
better another under my posterior. More zazen. An indignity of
running up hill in wellingtons. The walk, a revelling in misery.
Cold. Tired. Fed up. In pain. Want to leave. What an error to come
at all! Struggling not to weep. Back for tea, the cake upping the
blood sugar. More chopping. Onions by the metric tonne.

Chanting. Now this was OK! This touched something in the soul or
was it the innards. More zazen. Was I becoming immune to zazen
pain. No, it was just the Guestmaster muttering "Courage!"
Everything was fleeting. More food. Prayers. The ultimate gong of
the day. "How did you meditate today?" This was on a par with "Why
are you here?" All these people speaking of calmness, peace,
equanimity! Maybe I'm too highly strung for this. I don't fit in
here. Just let me go to bed. I went and slept, brain numbed.

Up and at it. Lavatories and exercises. OK. Its cool. I can do
this. Wrong. Early morning zazen a nightmare. Wriggle wriggle. I
could have rolled on the floor screaming. A brainful of anger and
hatred. Personal demons. Private hell.

Stomped over to the refectory. Gruel tempered with rehydrated
fruit. Not so bad. More bread. Drank more tea, getting less polite.
Chopped another six kilos of onions. Oh look! The anger had gone.
The head was clear. The body relaxed. Where had all that stuff
gone?

A pleasant zazen. Sunlight on my face through the window. Heard the
birds. Heard flies too. People trooping in and out. Some opted for
shoulder whacking. Crack! Crack! Feel undisturbed.

Interview. Curiously aware of speaking to John and listening to
myself doing it. Can I really be saying that? I am fascinated by
it. I don't say things like that - ever. My voice doesn't crack
with a stranger. "I" doesn't talk about anger and weeping. A
strange koan this. Who am I ?

The days moved on talking, sharing, holding. I wept into my tea
after morning exercises. I wept in the zendo. Mealtimes became a
ritual of paper towel acquisition for facilitating tear absorption.
Who am I? Who are you? What is the eternal? What is fulfilment ?
The questions circled the hall. Felt warmth and love and compassion
and movement. Strange answers appeared at the edges of my head, in
front of my eyes, at the ends of my fingers. Some things lodged in
my chest, my arms, at the frontiers of consciousness. A lot was
going on. I laughed uproariously at the idea that love might be a
fundamental part of the Universe. The question eluded me but the
answer was floating tantalisingly in front of my vision.

I thought I had the answer to my question. Lying in the zendo
looking up at the rafters I knew it. Hah. Zen joke. My answer was
equivalent to my initial attempt at mindful onion reduction. "Well,
you're nearly there. " It was only when I confronted the irritation
in myself and the self-imposed isolation that clarity began to
dawn.

"Go and climb the mountain !" Did this mean the Zen mountain or the
hill behind the house. I went for the hill. It seemed more
manageable. The answer to the koan lay in the gorge in front of me.
A scene from a Chinese calligraphic painting. A tree, a stone, a
mountainside, and me. There. All perfect in the moment. Colour,
form, sound, smell. Exact real existence. The answer to the koan ?
Was it alright to be a Lesbian in a Zen Monastery ? Of course it
was. What else was there to be except "I".

The ending of the retreat was very emotional for me. I had begun
something that would continue. Here were people whose lives I had
held and who had held mine. I was torn between wanting to take
something of them with me; photographs; addresses and wanting to
leave it all there somehow in an offering of gratitude to the
Universe. No longer did people seem like southerners. Indeed
several of them "came out" as having originated in the North. Here
was a bond of extraordinary plain simple closeness. In the end I
made myself leave. It would have been easy to delay further.

At the head of the valley in gorgeous sunshine and autumn colour,
in an amazing clarity, I saw a Red Kite. It was joined by another
and they were calling as they circled. Their cries and the sounds
of the bells at the zendo encompassed the silence of the last five
days. I knew then that the retreat was over. At home I couldn't
bear the electric light let alone the T.V. I went to bed by
candlelight.

Afterword. The sound of the bells and wooden clappers is a call to
community. It is more than a signal to join your fellow retreatants
in your made-up community of a Zen monastery. It is a call to a
larger community. Perhaps it is the Zen equivalent of the
"communion of saints". Each sound is a call not just to the next
activity but to a progressively deepening association with those
who have gone before you.

The string that holds the worry beads is the thread that binds us
to the teachings and doings of all the other practitioners moving
through time and space. We are bound also to those who have yet to
come, including our future selves. The thread binds us to everyone
doing anything to feel connected to the Universe. People practising
karate, tai- chi, chi-gung as well as those sweating in gyms
pumping iron. It ties in people managing their daily life in a
routine fashion in order to stay in control. It binds in people
fighting against all that the Eightfold Path represents, rapists,
muggers, murderers; all are bound so tight to the universal thread
that the only way they can live is to survive by fighting the bond.

All other living beings can just "be" in the way we must stop
struggling to obtain. Rocks and water are simply themselves. What
else can there be but compassion for all beings, all states of
nature? We can do nothing other in the face of this than cherish
the planet.

Except through suffering how else can this come through in daily
life? If we did not suffer we would never feel love, peace, joy.
How can there be silence without two noises to encompass it,
surround it, give it shape. The call of the bell is not just the
call to community. It is the call to remember and realise all the
contents of the Universe, all that it entails, every fragment that
has been and will come. Suffering will increase as our present life
continues for we have less and less time to make the realisation.
Birth, sickness, ageing and death -the pain that binds us to the
eternal.

Every aspect of the Maenllwyd life is necessary. Silence to waken
your eyes to see. Up at five in the darkness to encompass life in
the daylight. Stillness to see the movement through time to
eternity. Community to tighten the string of connectedness.
Friction to make you see beyond joy. The gentle holding of cups of
pain, our own and others, to help us see that everything can be
borne. The work to keep us grounded in the everyday. The walks to
unite us with nature. Zen food to sustain the flow. Teachings to
make sense of experience. Warmth and exercise to keep the body
moving through it.

The coming to Maenllwyd and the leaving of it, each like a birth
and a death complete with love, joy, fear and anger is like the
gentle "ting" of the bell at the end of zazen wrapping the
experience and giving it form for me to take with me on my journey
through life, on and off the path.

And so the "I" does not exist. It is like the cries of the birds
adding to the silence not detracting from it. It is merely a flow
of being. And time is just the ring through which the tiger jumps.




ABOUT THE NEW CH'AN FORUM Please send articles, poems, letters for
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New Chan Forum No. 13 Spring 1996