This is an edited version of a talk given as part of the Distinguished Buddhist Practitioner Lecture series at Ho Center for Buddhist Studies at Stanford California USA May 3rd 2012. It is based an earlier version of the talk given at the Chan Meditation Center in Elmhurst, Queens, New York, USA in October, 2008.
I am going to explore some of the issues which arise in teaching Buddhist practice in the West, and hence in being a Buddhist practitioner in the West. I will give some detail on one particular approach which we have used in our organisation for over 30 years, and which we call the ‘Western Zen Retreat’ (WZR).
As Buddhism has spread around the globe it has encountered differing cultures and has adapted its presentation in order to communicate the teachings more effectively. There are several aspects to this adaptation, including translation into the local language; external forms may be amended, lost, or new forms created; a different emphasis may be given to the various pre-existing methods of practice, and new methods may be developed.
For example, as Buddhism migrated from India to China it made use of local cultural references and terminology, notably from Daoism, and new methods of practice arose such as the Gongan method, better known by the Japanese word Koan. Similarly, as Buddhism entered Tibet it borrowed from the indigenous Bon tradition in its development there.
My presentation today is about the adaptation that is occurring and needs to occur as we are in the period of Buddhism entering the West and encountering our different cultures. Of course, this is a live issue for all Buddhist groups in the West, and I know others have their own way of understanding and implementing this, but I will be focusing specifically on how I understand some of the issues and what we have been doing in our organisation the Western Chan Fellowship.
Introductions
My tradition is from the Chinese Chan Buddhist lineage. Chan is not such a well known term, so just to clarify: Chan is the precursor in China of what later became Zen in Japan. Zen is the Japanese pronunciation of Chan. Because Japanese terms such as Koan are often better known than their Chinese equivalents, for clarity I may sometimes use Japanese terms where they are broadly interchangeable with the Chinese equivalents.
Though you may have heard of my lineage master, the late Chan Master Sheng Yen from Dharma Drum Mountain in Taiwan, probably hardly any of you have previously heard of the Western Chan Fellowship, nor of me or my teacher John Crook, so I shall start by giving you some background on our Sangha.
Chan Master Sheng Yen
Chan Master Sheng Yen died in 2009 and was one of the most well-known Chan Masters of modern times, so I do not need to say too much about him. Of note perhaps is that, relatively rarely for a Chinese monk, he was both a serious practitioner having undertaken intensive meditation practice including prolonged solitary retreat, and also a serious scholar having learned Japanese and taken a doctorate in Buddhist studies in Japan. He founded Dharma Drum Mountain, one of the largest Buddhist organisations in Taiwan with branches throughout the world. A particular project of his was to try to bring Chan to the West, and he taught regularly in the US for 30 years. In New York City there is his Institute of Chung-hwa Buddhist Culture and the Dharma Drum Retreat Center in upstate New York.
There are local chapters throughout the US including the Bay area, and offshoots such as my own organisation and others in Europe.
John Crook
My immediate teacher John Crook became interested in Buddhism as a teenager following a spontaneous experience of oneness whilst bird-watching in the forest. He found that nobody, neither parents nor teachers nor clergy, seemed able to explain this experience to him, but in the writings of Buddhism he found some understanding of this. He pursued this interest in Buddhism thereafter and throughout his life. When he was drafted for British army National Service and posted to Hong Kong in the 1950s during the Korean war he explored monasteries there and received some teachings. He studied Zoology at university and specialised in animal behaviour, and in 1968-69 he spent a year as a research fellow in animal behaviour in the US at Stanford University. He died suddenly, aged 80, July 2011.
During the late 1960s it was the ‘flower power’ era on the west coast of the USA and during his time here John became very involved in the personal growth and encounter group movements. He continued this after his return to England, and he took up the practice of meditation much more seriously, learning from both Zen and Tibetan teachers. From a synthesis of personal growth techniques and Zen practice, he subsequently developed what he called the ‘Western Zen Retreat’ which I shall describe later.
As his original Chan teacher in Hong Kong, Yen Why Fashi, became older and unable to teach, in the 1980s John looked for a new teacher and found Chan Master Sheng Yen and started attending his New York retreats. This led to Master Sheng Yen visiting UK to teach. In 1989 he gave John permission to teach on his behalf, and in 1993 gave full Dharma Transmission to John making him his second Dharma Heir, an unusual recognition for a lay person.
At this time, John asked how he should teach in the West. Sheng Yen replied, “I am Chinese, you are a Westerner, you find out!” Sheng Yen recognised, perhaps from his own experience of teaching in the US that the teaching must adapt to its environment. Subsequently he asked John to bring the WZR to his retreat centre in upstate New York, Dharma Drum Retreat Center, and either John or myself have led this retreat there annually for over ten years, as well as other more traditional retreats.
Myself
I trained with John Crook from 1981, attending many of his Western Zen Retreats and also later the more orthodox style Chan retreats. I also trained on retreats with Chan Master Sheng Yen from 1992, and in 2000 he gave me transmission as his third Dharma Heir. I had trained with John to lead the Western Zen Retreat and the other retreats that we offer in the Western Chan Fellowship, and I succeeded John by being appointed as head Teacher of the WCF following his death last year.
Western Chan Fellowship
The Western Chan Fellowship is our lay Buddhist organisation, founded by John Crook in 1997 with myself as founding Secretary. We run a programme of intensive Chan retreats and coordinate local meditation groups across England and Wales, with some associated groups in Europe.
Transmission of Dharma to and within Western Cultures
So let us turn to the main theme of this talk, transmission of Dharma to and within Western cultures. What are the problems, what possible solutions, and what have we been doing in the Western Chan Fellowship?
I need to give a caveat here – a health warning. I shall be dealing in generalisations, perhaps even stereotypes, in some of what I present, for example when referring to contrasts between Western and Chinese personalities. Please do not take offence at this. I am generalising for the purpose of exploration to discover themes which may warrant further development, not to pick on individuals and comment on their particular characteristics.
When I use terms such as ‘Western’ and ‘Chinese’ or ‘Asian’ I am referring to a person’s social background, e.g. where they were brought up, and their education and family circumstance, I am not referring to their racial origins. A person with Chinese parents may be a ‘Western’ person with a Western personality and worldview if they were brought up and educated in the West.
On reading my descriptions both Chinese and Westerners may say “I am not like that”. Indeed that may well be true, because there is a great variety in people and of course characteristics overlap. However, there are some points which apply more to most Westerners than to most Chinese, and vice versa; so for the purposes of exploration it is quite fair to generalise.
Nevertheless, we also need to be cautious about generalisations. For example, it is clear that not all Westerners are the same. There are differences between people from different parts of Europe, and of course in the different subpopulations in US. Moreover, of course not all Asian peoples are the same.
Also, the Chinese in the US are at least partly Westernised due to where they live and being exposed to Western culture. Similarly some Westerners may be partly Sinicised owing to an interest in Buddhism and an exposure to Chinese and other Asian cultures.
What I am presenting here are not just my own ideas. Even though I am not an academic there is academic research to support some of what I am outlining, for example, in the field of Chinese psychology (e.g. see Bond 2010). I am also grateful to those people, both Western and Chinese, who openly and honestly share their worldview with me, for example in personal interviews on retreat, as this has educated me in the divergence between the Eastern and Western worldviews, including views of self.
It is also worth mentioning that the East-West dimension is only a part of this topic. There is also the matter of our living in a different age from the time of the Buddha and the time when Buddhism evolved its forms in Asian counties. As the world, which historically was an agrarian society, has become more globalised and more industrialised, we need to consider how the modern educated mind is able to assimilate expressions which would not have been meaningful in past less-educated times. Therefore, the topic is broader than just ‘Eastern’ and ‘Western’.
Why am I talking about the characteristics of peoples, when we are here to talk about how to express the Dharma? Well, to match the communication to the audience we need to understand the characteristics of the audience.
Aspects that may Warrant Changes of Presentation
There are various aspects to explore. Let us start with:
Translation and Cultural Issues
A moment’s thought shows that some changes in presentation are required to convey the Dharma to a Western audience. For example, translation from Eastern languages into Western languages such as English is essential because hardly any of us know or will learn the original languages of the teachings.
However, translation is not straightforward. Despite the best efforts of the translators, nuances of meaning can be lost in translation, especially when languages such as English and Chinese are structured so differently.
A specific example of translation difficulty is that Westerners do not always understand that when the term ‘Mind’ is used in Buddhist literature or by a Teacher that it may include ‘Heart’ or feelings, as the Chinese word ‘Xin’ includes both these concepts in one word: Heart-Mind. This may lead them into misunderstanding that ‘Mind’ refers solely to processes of thinking and consciousness, and to overlook that the teachings are also addressing the emotional world of the practitioner.
A related issue is that the Chinese word for ‘sensation’ includes sensation of feeling and emotion. Again this can cause confusion when Westerners interpret this word to be referring only to physical senses such as touch. For example, when taught about the ‘doubt sensation’ in Huatou and Koan practice some mistakenly think that they should be looking for a response in their physical senses.
Sometimes translation alone is not sufficient. Western Buddhists typically do not have a background understanding of Dharma from their education at home and at school. Chinese people may have been brought up in Buddhist families, or at least in a culture which knows of Buddhism, and so may have absorbed Dharma concepts as part of their primary worldview. Hence, Westerners may bring more ignorance and misunderstandings to their practice and usually need more education in basic Dharma.
To take a step further, forms of expression whether in words, or in physical objects such as statues, or in ceremonial events, may not have resonance for people who have been brought up with a different symbolism as part of a different culture. Therefore a ‘cultural translation’ or explanation may be required as well as a translation of content. It may be more appropriate to tie-in to the symbolism of the audience rather than trying to explain symbolism from another culture. For example many old Chan stories have culturally-based imagery such as dragons and lotus and jade which need explaining to Westerners – why waste time explaining if we can use examples already known from our own upbringing?
Just as Chan in arriving in China incorporated features of Daoism, perhaps now in the West Chan should find a way to use Western cultural concepts, perhaps even to replace some of the familiar Daoist and other historic cultural references. This might be as trivial as using stories, images, and personalities from sport or soap operas, but more seriously we can also make use of cultural and psychological archetypes and modes of expression such as the unconscious.
Education and the Thinking Mind
I am told that traditional Chinese education is somewhat ‘authoritarian’ and hierarchical, with students learning facts from an authority figure whom they are to assume is correct. In contrast we Westerners are taught to question and evaluate for ourselves, challenging the teacher if what we are told does not make sense. We are taught to use thought and logic to approach problems and consider the validity of proposals. It is a natural habit for us to respond in this way. This affects our response to Dharma instruction and our relationship to our teachers.
Hence, typically, Chinese are more willing than Westerners to accept authority figures, to put their own opinion and ideas down when hearing those of an authority, to be more humble about their own views.
Westerners may not accept the word of a Master. We may be willing to be proved wrong, but only if the case against our viewpoint is well argued! This may be arrogance, but more often it simply the way we have been educated, to have an enquiring mind which respects facts and argument more so than authority.
Consequently, Master Sheng Yen commented that Westerners were less likely to do just as they are instructed when explained a method of practice. He said that a Chinese practitioner will take the instruction then go and apply it. A Westerner will ask questions wanting to know – how it works – what evidence there is for it – percentage success rates at reaching Enlightenment – how to estimate progress – how long it will take to succeed – documented case studies; and so on. If these concerns are brushed aside as irrelevant the Westerner may decide not to take up the practice assuming it must be just superstition if there is no adequate theoretical or evidential basis for it.
Model of Self
In general Asian peoples, not only the Chinese, may have what psychologists refer to as an ‘Embedded Self ’. Their sense of self is embedded in their family and community, and they have much less sense of a personal self which is separate from others than do Westerners. Culturally it may be regarded as shameful, lacking in humility, to talk about or be concerned about one’s self, one’s own feelings and emotions. Meanwhile Westerners have an ‘Individual Self ’. They do have concern for their family and friends, but they also have a clear distinction in their mind between their self and their family. We Westerners naturally do talk about ourselves and our opinions, which is a way to learn about ourselves as we discuss with friends, and it is also a way of repentance in owning up to our errors and foolishness. It is also a way of compassion, allowing another a hearing to let them talk about themselves.
Consequent to these differences, people from different backgrounds may hear a very different message when they hear the Buddhist doctrine of no-self. Chinese may hear a message about putting down self as being a way to end the social errors of selfishness and hence have no reservation about it. However, Westerners may hear a quite different message. Having identified with their individual self it can seem that no-self implies annihilation and they sometimes interpret this quite literally as meaning they may disappear and no longer be able to relate to their partners or family. This needs explaining to Westerners. I occasionally have to reassure frightened practitioners that they are in no danger of disappearing but simply that if they continue to practice it is their faulty understanding of self which is the only thing liable to disappear.
So Chinese may experience this doctrine as something very positive and to be welcomed, while Westerners often feel threatened by a misunderstanding that this is about ‘getting rid’ of a self which they actually find quite natural and useful. These are two very different hearings of the same teaching with both based on the differences of the upbringing of the hearer.
Monasticism v. Lay Life
Historically the main training methods evolved exclusively for a monastic model of practice with lay people rarely engaging in intensive and ongoing training of the mind. This history can mislead us into assuming that only monastics can reach deep realisation. It can also mislead us into thinking that we must all aspire to a monastic model of training as the only valid approach because that is the one that has been handed down to us.
We are in a different situation in the West (and it is changing in the East too) and our practice needs to adapt to this. Nearly all Western practitioners are lay people. This means they usually have busy and committed lives with work and family and less opportunity for formal sitting practice, so they must rely more on continuing practice away from retreat and off the cushion. For those who proudly say they meditate 30 minutes almost every day I coined a phrase, ‘23.5 hour Zen’ and ask them ‘How about practising all the rest of the time, not only during formal sitting periods?’
The challenges of everyday lay life such as work and relationship issues can be part of a more thorough training if practitioners take up methods which they can apply in their particular circumstances. Engaged Buddhism is a term which for some may be narrowly identified with specific political activism or charitable helping. But it can also be understood as a broader concept which points to various forms of practising within one’s everyday life. These might be international and global, but might be local and small-scale, or even on a scale of one – engaging in your own life wholeheartedly and mindfully.
Therefore, an emphasis on cultivating everyday awareness, supported by the precepts and by contact with fellow practitioners, your lay Sangha, is one way forward here. This enables us to continue investigating the nature of our mind as it reacts to differing circumstances throughout the day.
Karma and Rebirth
Many Westerners do not accept the doctrine of past lives (though it is also true that many others do). In both Europe and the US some practitioners raise this with me as a problem for them. An explanation and presentation of the process of cause and effect is required to take account of this. Cause and effect can still be explained without needing to assume a literal acceptance of rebirth. The Buddha did not ask us to believe his teachings, he asked us to test them for ourselves and see if we find them useful. So, we do not need to impose doctrines on practitioners who do not find them helpful or who may find them confusing or off-putting because they are not supported by scientific evidence.
There is another issue in this area. In the Buddha’s times rebirth was seen as a ‘bad’ thing – a failure to escape the cycle of death and rebirth and hence exposure to another round of suffering existence. In a reversal of this understanding some Western practitioners, especially those from Christian backgrounds, may understand rebirth as ‘salvation’ and another opportunity to gain the enlightenment they may fail to gain in this life! This can lead to a lazy attitude to practice – “life isn’t too bad now, and I’ll get another chance next time around, so I don’t need to be too concerned about my practice”.
Devotional Practice
Westerners involvement in and response to ‘devotional’ practices such as chanting, making offerings, and prostrations, is quite variable. Some will adopt them quite willingly and comfortably, but others will be inclined to reject these as superstitious or theistic phenomena. Some may interpret them functionally,
such as following or respecting tradition, or using chanting as a concentration practice. Others may find them touching the heart in various ways, such as the use of prostrations for practice of repentance or gratitude. So again these teachings need to be presented in a way which takes account of these divergences of understanding, in order to avoid confusing the audience.
Motivation to Practice
Typically, Westerners are goal-orientated, seeking self-development, seeking relief from distress, or seeking Enlightenment, so at least in the early stages their practice is very self-centred. This is not necessarily so for a Chinese person who has been brought up in a Buddhist family and is simply and naturally continuing the family tradition as a ‘habit’ or a cultural norm, perhaps even a ‘religious duty’.
These different motivations need different teaching approaches to engage such persons. Master Sheng Yen commented that, being driven by seeking personal gain, Westerners often put more effort into their practice, but that their weakness is in failing at long-term persistence. He said the opposite applied (in both respects) for his Chinese students.
Whilst we recognise the importance of the Enlightenment experience, John Crook was always careful to set it in the context of a lifelong ‘Enlightening Path’. It’s not a matter of seeking an experience and then treating it as an endpoint or a credential of some sort, but more like a step in steadily developing one’s human potential in an ongoing manner.
Taking it Forward
Methods of practice and teaching have changed over the centuries, in response to the needs of practitioners and the circumstances of their culture, education, etc. I think we could use the term ‘evolution’ here, and I find it interesting to reflect that all of this past evolution of the practices and methods of presenting the Dharma occurred in response to the needs and characteristics of Asian practitioners. As I have discussed, this may not all be applicable to Western lay practitioners because of our differing psychology, culture, and education, and indeed may even be unhelpful in some cases such as where Westerners misunderstand letting go of attachment to self as a denial or annihilation of self.
I believe this process of change needs to continue, in some cases maybe needing only minor tweaks such as translation or finding new metaphors, but there is also scope to consider more major changes such as developing new methods of entering the practice.
Westerners are used to learning through interaction and to exploring their problems by discussion. The traditional Chan/Zen interview with the Teacher focuses on the method of practice, but we find it can also be helpful in retreat interviews to allow time for discussion with participants of the obstructions arising in their minds. This can help them to let go of attachment to their concerns and to then settle more deeply into their practice.
For some this raises a question as to the boundary between Chan and therapy. However, remember that a key purpose of practice is to clear our obstructions through whatever methods are effective (skilful means), so that we can penetrate to the underlying basis of mind. Remember that the Buddha was also in some sense a ‘therapist’, using devices to help to release people from everyday suffering, and one of his titles was the Great Physician. For an example of this read the story of Kisagotami and the mustard seed where he helped a young woman come to terms with the death of her child by leading her to realise that death comes to all (see Kisagotami Theri translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu 2010). Helping people relieve the obstructions caused by internal conflicts in their minds is an important step in facilitating them to focus on their investigation of mind.
Westerners will tend to employ the thinking mind. They have been brought up to rely on this, so we need to accommodate this tendency. Thinking is not ‘It’ but use can be made of thinking on the Path. Instead of telling people not to think, we find ways to harness thought to enter the practice.
In our Western Zen Retreat we use a ‘communication exercise’ to help practitioners use thought to exhaust thought. We do not teach that the answer is to be found in thought, but we show practitioners ways to use thought to go beyond thought, to use words to go beyond words. The communication exercise is a specially constructed verbal exercise which is not a conversation, and neither is it psychotherapy. Sometimes it is called ‘communication meditation’ because it is actually a form of meditation, and it is introduced with careful and detailed instruction.
Western Zen Retreat
The Western Zen Retreat is a retreat format designed by John Crook in 1975, arising from his experience of traditional Zen retreat and also his experience of personal growth work. Because of these mixed origins it can be easy to misunderstand it, and it has been misrepresented as being not a ‘proper’ Buddhist retreat but more like ‘therapy’ or a ‘psychology workshop’ but this is not the case. It is actually quite a difficult process to describe as to understand it properly really requires the experience of the retreat.
The form is very much as a traditional Zen retreat, with a rule of silence, rising early, a strict schedule of sitting meditation practice, work practice, Dharma talks, individual interviews, and so on. It is a five-day event, commencing one evening, running through four full days, and then ending on the following morning or afternoon. The practice is based on investigation of the Huatou, a short phrase often taken from a koan. This is one of the traditional methods of focusing on a question; a question that does yield to a logical solution. Typically we use the question ‘Who am I?’ though other questions may also be used.
Inserted into the retreat and replacing some of the sitting meditation periods, is an exercise derived from the personal growth movement, but modelled on the Teacher/student Zen interview. We call this a ‘communication exercise’, or ‘communication meditation’. Confusingly it uses speech and yet it is definitely not a conversation nor a conventional spoken interaction. What occurs during this exercise is carefully constrained by the rules we specify about how these periods are to be used. I will try to explain how this works, but you do really have to experience it rather than to try to think yourself into it.
These half-hour communication meditation periods are broken into segments by a bell being rung every five minutes. Practitioners sit in pairs, the pairings being different for each separate half-hour exercise. During the five minutes, only one person speaks in answer to their question which is put by the partner: (typically) “Tell me who you are”. The speaker then tries to share his/her experience of who they are, and the other person listens and does not interfere in any way. They do not respond, converse, argue, approve, or do anything. They appear somewhat passive but are attentive and maintaining eye-contact (mindful listening).
After five minutes, on the sound of the bell, the roles are reversed. Now the other is responding to their own question, which may also be “Tell me who you are”, but it is instructed that they respond from their own internal inquiry, not by responding to the comments of the one who just finished speaking. This is not a conversation and the two ‘responses’ are kept separate even though they may naturally cover the same content to some extent.
Initially the responses may be somewhat conventional: name, age, occupation, marital status, children etc. But the question is put again every five minutes and so then what to say? Repeat the same? Or find something else to say?
Repetition may occur, but naturally drops away. Not only does it bore the speakers to say the same thing over and over, they also do not feel satisfied with these responses. They have a sense that there is more to who they are than just a list of attributes and roles, and so the question remains unanswered.
As the exercises continue, and they are moving to different pairings, they naturally reflect internally, “Well who am I? This is curious, I can’t say”, and then something comes to mind which seems to relate to their sense of who they are and they share that with their partner. Perhaps it is a story from their past which seems significant in some way, perhaps some feeling arises in the moment which is shared, or perhaps something else. Again, this does not bear repeated retelling. Whilst it somehow relates to their sense of who they are, it does not encapsulate the whole; they cannot find a way to express who they are.
The internal inquiry continues during periods of conventional sitting meditation, which occur for at least half the periods of the retreat, approximately alternating with communication exercises. In both sitting meditation, where they internalise the question in the traditional format of working on a koan or huatou, and in communication exercises where in essence they do the same but additionally vocalise their internal responses, the participant asks themselves their question. In each case they do not find a response which gives a sense of satisfying the enquiry. This becomes very puzzling, even disconcerting. “Why can I not say who I am, it seems such a simple question, and an important question, and yet not only can I not find words I also am beginning to realise that I do not really know who I am”.
They are moving towards entering the doubt described in traditional koan practice, and generally do so more quickly than in a traditional retreat format as they are aided by the communication exercise. In traditional sitting many people waste a lot of time in dullness and day-dreaming, but when a bell rings and another person sitting in front of you requests a response this brings you out of any dullness and focuses you sharply on the question and hence avoids waste of practice time.
Practitioners become deeply engrossed in their question over the course of just a day or two and are now engaged in traditional huatou practice, investigating the question spontaneously at all times, when sitting, when eating, when working, on waking in the night: “How ridiculous that I do not know who I am. Who am I? Who is walking? Who is tasting the food?” and so on.
They have used words and thinking to enter the practice, but now they are moving beyond words and thinking, having found that these do not satisfy, and now enter a wordless internal investigation into their own experience of being themselves in the present moment. If words arise which might be grasped as ‘answers’ they have a mechanism in the communication exercise to test and discharge them and so not be deflected from practice by believing they have found an ‘answer’.
There are traps that can be fallen into on this retreat and our leaders are well-trained in managing what can be a challenging process, by monitoring the proceedings and by quite frequent personal interviews with the participants. I do not need to go into all these issues now, but what I do want to do is to highlight some of the several processes for the participants which go on in parallel on this retreat.
This use and encouragement of words and thinking seems more effective as way of getting practitioners to move beyond thinking than simply telling them not to think. We let them use their thinking to the point when it exhausts itself and has no more responses and then they naturally enter no-thought. This is better than, as some may try, using their mind to try to suppress thought. As the Chan poem the Xin Xin Ming (Affirming Faith in Mind) tells us “Attempts to stop activity will fill you with activity.” Chan Enlightenment is not found through thought, but that does not mean that thinking should be suppressed. Dogen instructed “Not trying to think”, but he followed that up by saying, “nor trying not to think”.
A key point is that as I have described, this method is a quick and effective way to get practitioners to enter the doubt which is an essential part of traditional huatou investigation.
Repentance is an important part of Chan practice, and is also facilitated in this retreat. By sharing with others, what arises in the mind, one is sharing one’s mistakes. Naturally, unless you are very hard-hearted, in talking to another of your mistakes you will also reflect on these and learn from them. It can happen that we try to protect ourselves by only telling the part of the story that makes us look good, avoiding acknowledging our error and shame. Interestingly this type of story tends to recur to the mind and needs to be retold, until eventually it is told fully and honestly, and then with humility and repentance release from the story can occur.
We carry, often unknown and unseen, fixed views that we have acquired from our culture, from our parents and teachers, and from our life-experience. These become habits of thought, attitude, and action, and may influence us in ways we do not understand. The self-exploration of this retreat can uncover these habits, for example as we find ourselves telling a story and recognise that our part in the story exposes an impulsion to a way of responding that may not have been the most appropriate. This discovery allows a re-evaluation of these views which can free us to drop them as they are often time-expired and not relevant to our current lives. Nearly everyone completing this retreat leaves feeling freed of some burden, often in a quite significant way.
The seemingly ‘passive’ part of the exercise, listening to another, is a very important aspect of the process too. Hearing the heartfelt stories of the many fellow retreatants, including the difficulties of their lives and their acknowledgement of their guilt and shame, leads to profound compassion for the human condition. It may also normalise our understanding of what we may have considered to be our uniquely difficult circumstances – it turns out that others suffer too, perhaps even worse than us!
Whilst calming the mind is an important aspect of this retreat, you could say that the WZR primarily emphasises investigation of the mind. Experience shows that many meditators can get trapped in the comfort of calming the mind but find difficulty making the transition to the inquiry aspect of practice, investigating the mind. We find that practitioners who have taken part in the WZR learn about investigation in a very experiential way, and are able to carry this learning into more traditional retreats such as our Silent Illumination and Koan retreats, and importantly also into their everyday life experience, whereas others may find this a more difficult concept to grasp and are more at risk of getting stuck in quietism.
Postscript
In exploring these issues, I am not wishing to suggest a fundamental underlying difference between Chinese and Western minds, nor between the Enlightenment potentials of different peoples, not at all. I am merely pointing to what we might regard as ‘superficial’ differences between minds, based on culture, upbringing and education. These ‘superficial’ differences are important because it is the ‘surface’ of our mind which contacts and interprets the environment, and specifically which encounters then responds to Buddhist teaching and methods.
You could say that I am also looking mainly at the superficial aspects of the practices, the entrances to the practices. However, practice entrances are important. It is not so often that a person is open to direct mind to mind transmission, what Bodhidharma referred to as Entrance through Principle. But we can find methods of practice to teach as entrances to the Way. Once fully engaged then the history of the practitioner and the entrance chosen seems less important, as in any case they are by now practising in the traditional ‘mode’ of wordless inquiry.
I have been exploring the reasons why we sometimes present the teachings a little differently to the traditional methods, and hopefully establishing the validity of doing so. Always we must be, and are, careful to preserve the heart of the practice, but for continuation to the next generation we must also be careful to communicate the Dharma in a manner that is effective and is understood by the recipient.
The Buddha adjusted his teaching to his audience, and as Dharma is a relative newcomer to the West it seems appropriate that we continue to do the same. Hence alongside the traditional practices we also offer these alternative approaches to practice.
References
Bond, M. H. (ed) (2010). The Oxford Handbook of Chinese Psychology. Oxford University Press. Oxford.
Kisagotami Theri (Thig 10), translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. 08/08/2010 Access to Insight. http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/thig/thig.10.01.than.html
