Will Meditation Liberate You? Part 2

The previous post had so many interesting comments, I decided to continue the discussion in today's post. Thanks to everyone who wrote in so far.

First off, part of the reason I posted The Zennist's commentary is because I found myself in agreement with more of it than in disagreement. Like many of you, I keep going back to his blog because there is something to learn, whether it be about specific sutras or teachings, or if it's just a way viewing things that helps shift my own.

In fact, because the guy takes the time to write informed posts, I find that when I disagree, there's usually something to work with just as much as when I agree with him. That's refreshing in this age of pithy sound bytes that get a reaction, but ultimately do nothing to further our inquiry into our lives.

Mumon commented:

1. American/Western Zen students generally could use more cultural and historical familiarity with how Zen actually arose. The students and teachers of old spent most of their time working, and this is where practice was.

2. In the Rinzai tradition, there's Hakuin. Hakuin was big on practice in the midst of everyday life. The Zennist is at least partially Rinzai-flavored (more Chan than Zen, if I recall correctly.) If this practice stays on the cushion you might as well be in Las Vegas.

I've written about history on this blog before as well. Particularly, when it comes to Buddhism moving into North America, and the fact that many convert Buddhists have almost no knowledge about the 100 years of practice that occurred before Suzuki Roshi and others arrived in the 1950s to herd all those hippies and Beat folks. I also have a pretty dense book on my shelf that our sangha studied years ago, which looked at the emergence of Chan historically, focusing on the ways Taoism, Confucianism, and indigenous spiritual paths influenced the Buddhism that arrived "from the west" (i.e. India). Makes me instantly think of the Sandokai, which is a fairly early teaching of the Chan (Zen) school, and clearly is indebted to Taoist sources.

Nella Lou makes an important point about the internet and assumptions about who someone is when she writes the following:

And anonymous makes a whole pile of assumptions based on entries in a very focussed blog. Just because someone doesn't spread out their entire life for worldly consumption doesn't mean that they have no life to spread out. It is not possible to say "Nah" to any of those questions since you don't know the answers. Your theory of what is and isn't important to the guy who writes The Zennist lacks any sort of substantial evidence and sounds like a projection of your own thinking on his life. A few statements on a blog do not encompass the whole by any means.

I have over 100 blogs in my list, and when I consider the nature of them individually, they range from the very academic, "heady" writing of people like The Zennist, to blogs that are very personal, full of intimate details of life and practice. All of these blogs give you a taste of what someone is like, but none of them could possibly encompass an entire person.

The older I get, and the longer I've practiced paying attention to my own life, the more it seems that any narrative I have about anyone, including myself, is partial. Surprise, even with a parent, lover, or longtime friend is readily available if only you turn a little to the left or right.

Marcus, who regularly reminds people online in various ways to return to the teachings, writes:

And the emphasis on the Sutras? Good thing. Again, studying the texts alone will not get you there, but we need signposts and they are the best we have. And their study has always been one of the main activities of Zen throughout the centuries. The Zennist, when he holds up the Sutras as a benchmark, is fully in line with the Zen tradition.

I have to say I prefer the way Marcus says it here. Frequently, I get the sense that the sutras are IT for The Zennist, which maybe isn't his point, but the way he writes (I think) makes it hard to come to a different conclusion. But Marcus' point is important, and I'd like to add to it this: Let's endeavor to be influenced by a variety of teachers and teachings - not just Dogen, or Suzuki, or Pema Chodron. Let's actually dig into some of the Pali Canon, and also those old Chinese guys like Shitou. I'm saying this knowing that some us out there are already doing this, but perhaps not enough.

Or, if it's only about the Pali Canon for you, or Dogen, or whatever - go deep, really deep.

And finally, Algernon brings up some questions I often have when it comes to these kinds of discussions.

Occasionally, when someone mentions a post like this one, I'll go read the Zennist. I do not leave comments simply because I get no indication he is interested in dialogue or other perspectives, and that's fine with me -- it's his blog.

When I have read him, very often I wonder what his sangha experiences were, positive and/or negative.

Why live? What's our job? Is our job just to understand the sutras "correctly" and that's it? What if you understand the sutras but you're such a jerk you can't love anyone or inspire them?

One of the struggles I have had with blog posts like this one from The Zennist is that the specifics of daily life feel so absent. Maybe this isn't the case, but the only really strong touching down on the ground that occurs in the post is when The Zennist speaks about meditating in an abandoned mine. I actually enjoyed that detail, but it doesn't help me make the connection between discussions of the absolute and my daily life. Somehow, in my view, when a person is Zenning (a new verb for you all :) - Somehow, when a person is Zenning they need to figure out how to demonstrate the total dynamic functioning occurring in every moment. It isn't just the absolute, nor is it just the daily, relative events and manifestations. Maybe I'm just too dense to get it in The Zennist's writing, but I often come away thinking he's leaning too heavily towards the absolute, which if you dig into any number of Zen koans, you'll find a myriad of warnings about such leanings.

When it comes to writing about Buddhism online, why do it? What's your intention? Maybe this is ground worth considering for all of us Buddhist bloggers. It might even be interesting if people wrote about their intentions on their blogs, and even offered updates when some shift occurs (because intentions do shift). As I have gone on, this blog has become a part of my practice, and so I have tried treat it as such. That's one intention for me I suppose: to blog as practice. There are others as well.

I honestly don't know what The Zennist's intentions are with his blog. As much as I quibble with some of his conclusions, I'm thankful he's been out there plugging away.

Are You Calling Me a Radical?

For a good week now, I've been haunted lines from a song. It just kept arising, in various situations that seemed completely unlinked. This morning, I was thinking that the song was from a band a friend of mine loves, but then it appeared again - five minutes ago - on the soundtrack in the coffee shop I am in. I knew it was time to do some research.

Supertramp's "The Logical Song" was a hit single in 1979, when I was 3 years old. It's a song about the experienced freedom of childhood, and how growing up, "getting educated," and getting evaluated by others creates some major identity confusion.

What's interesting is that there have been a few posts lately dealing with some of this. Robyn from My Fair Isle speaks of homeschooling, unschooling, and her children struggling to enjoy a program at a Waldorf school. From the bits I've read of Robyn's ideas about learning, there's a deep desire to provide something for her children that runs counter to the kind of education the Supertramp song speaks of, and which most of us experienced. Having spent years teaching, and exploring learning theories and experimenting in my classrooms, I completely agree with Robyn that the standard models of education for either children or adults fail us in many ways.

On a different, but related note, The Zennist posted recently about leaving childhood ideas of the world behind and taking responsibility for our lives in adulthood. At one point, he brings up the perennial topic of guru or spiritual teacher exploitation, suggesting that attachment and enacting views of the world we developed as children probably play a role in being involved in these kinds of relationships later in life. The "I wasn't "saved" by mom or dad, so I'll seek out a savior figure spiritually" kind of thing.

Going back to the song, the entire thing hinges on not knowing one's self. The chorus of the song is of a man desperately seeking identity:

At night, when all the world's asleep,
the questions run so deep
for such a simple man.
Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned
I know it sounds absurd
but please tell me who I am.

My guess is that all of us have been here, even if we never say it out loud to others. Wanting confirmation that you "are someone" to "somebody," we take what others say about us as true, or seek out more opinions when what we hear doesn't sound so good.

If my Zen training has done anything, it's taught me to turn within and let all that chatter go. Not at all any easy task, and in many ways, it's felt like another form of unschooling, breaking a trained pattern of acting in the world, seeking confirmation or rebuke, and then acting based on that response. Sometimes, I have wanted to fit in, so I'd go along with that which stifles the living precepts and suffocates my life. Other times, I wanted to be seen as the "radical," and so I trotted out my views in situations where they weren't called for.

Behind all that, though, seems to be this deeper search for identity. Who am I? What am I supposed to be doing here on this earth? What is my deepest intention now?

All of this has been up for me a lot lately, as I've navigated career issues, a fairly new romantic relationship, a leadership role in my sangha, and everyday life. I feel very blessed in many ways, and in other ways, somewhat stifled still. However, the gift of dharma teachings that remind me again and again not to place my faith in the transient things of life, while also caring deeply for those same transient things, are invaluable.