With palms together,
There is nothing to be gained from the practice of Zen. So we say. We say that when we have a gaining idea when we come to practice we will miss the mark. This is so when our practice is pure, but not all practices are pure, which is to say, many of us come to practice with a need. We need to be more relaxed, more at peace, less angry, less depressed and so on. Few of us come to practice with the aroused thought of enlightenment. It has occurred to me that to talk of enlightenment is to miss the mark in two ways. First, it is not wise to talk of that which cannot be thought, only realized. Second, and most importantly, it does not address the needs of those in attendance.
The Buddha was a medicine man. He applied skilful means after he made a diagnosis of the ills of the person in front of him. Not all medicine was the same nor was it delivered in the same way. When I look out at the faces in my Zendo as I am about to offer a Dharma talk, it is important that I understand what the needs are of those in front of me. There is a strong pressure to give them what I believe they need rather than what they believe they need. As to “needs” we are too often both mistaken. There are differences between what they believe they need, what I believe they need, and what we each, in fact, need. An appreciation of this deepens my appreciation of the Buddha as he sat in front of ailing crowds offering medicine so skillfully. We must be empty cups.
Bromides like “only go straight,” or “just sit,” are not helpful and reflect, in my opinion, a lack of skill on the part of the teacher. Like Gutei’s finger they are only useful when uttered by the original Master, a Master who has assessed the situation and offers his or her teaching authentically. Copycats need not apply.
When we disallow what we “know” we have little recourse but to throw ourselves into the literal, actual, moment. We must address those sitting in front of us who have come to the Zendo for something. In this, we are left with ourselves. Such a thing can be scary, hence, our all too often reliance on bromides, snippets from other Masters, and tricks such as the crack of a stick. What are we doing?
Frankly, I don’t know. What I do know is that I too often completely miss the mark. I believe it is important to begin where the student is (to borrow a phrase from Social Work). The only way to do that is to ask the student to describe where they are and what they want or need. More importantly, though, we must believe them and teach to that need. It is important to stay in the present, as well. The Ancients teach us much, but ubiquitous referencing of dead guys is a little like the constant referencing of scripture in the Christian tradition: boring and unhelpful.
Lastly, a caution from the film, Chicago: when on the ropes, “razzle dazzle them!” The energy and quick spatter of profundities we sometimes use as teachers might make good theatre, but is hardly the intimate heart to heart touching students may require. I believe Zen students want something real. They want something authentic. And they want something both fresh and relevant. To gain such medicine both students and teachers must be willing to be honest, speak up, and take risks. It’s not all on the teacher, thank goodness. Students must use their voices and touch their hearts as they stumble through their practice. After all, if the physician is not given accurate, authentic information from the patient how will he or she properly treat the ailment?
Be well
There is nothing to be gained from the practice of Zen. So we say. We say that when we have a gaining idea when we come to practice we will miss the mark. This is so when our practice is pure, but not all practices are pure, which is to say, many of us come to practice with a need. We need to be more relaxed, more at peace, less angry, less depressed and so on. Few of us come to practice with the aroused thought of enlightenment. It has occurred to me that to talk of enlightenment is to miss the mark in two ways. First, it is not wise to talk of that which cannot be thought, only realized. Second, and most importantly, it does not address the needs of those in attendance.
The Buddha was a medicine man. He applied skilful means after he made a diagnosis of the ills of the person in front of him. Not all medicine was the same nor was it delivered in the same way. When I look out at the faces in my Zendo as I am about to offer a Dharma talk, it is important that I understand what the needs are of those in front of me. There is a strong pressure to give them what I believe they need rather than what they believe they need. As to “needs” we are too often both mistaken. There are differences between what they believe they need, what I believe they need, and what we each, in fact, need. An appreciation of this deepens my appreciation of the Buddha as he sat in front of ailing crowds offering medicine so skillfully. We must be empty cups.
Bromides like “only go straight,” or “just sit,” are not helpful and reflect, in my opinion, a lack of skill on the part of the teacher. Like Gutei’s finger they are only useful when uttered by the original Master, a Master who has assessed the situation and offers his or her teaching authentically. Copycats need not apply.
When we disallow what we “know” we have little recourse but to throw ourselves into the literal, actual, moment. We must address those sitting in front of us who have come to the Zendo for something. In this, we are left with ourselves. Such a thing can be scary, hence, our all too often reliance on bromides, snippets from other Masters, and tricks such as the crack of a stick. What are we doing?
Frankly, I don’t know. What I do know is that I too often completely miss the mark. I believe it is important to begin where the student is (to borrow a phrase from Social Work). The only way to do that is to ask the student to describe where they are and what they want or need. More importantly, though, we must believe them and teach to that need. It is important to stay in the present, as well. The Ancients teach us much, but ubiquitous referencing of dead guys is a little like the constant referencing of scripture in the Christian tradition: boring and unhelpful.
Lastly, a caution from the film, Chicago: when on the ropes, “razzle dazzle them!” The energy and quick spatter of profundities we sometimes use as teachers might make good theatre, but is hardly the intimate heart to heart touching students may require. I believe Zen students want something real. They want something authentic. And they want something both fresh and relevant. To gain such medicine both students and teachers must be willing to be honest, speak up, and take risks. It’s not all on the teacher, thank goodness. Students must use their voices and touch their hearts as they stumble through their practice. After all, if the physician is not given accurate, authentic information from the patient how will he or she properly treat the ailment?
Be well
No comments:
Post a Comment