Following on from my post from May 22nd, here are a couple of very apt quotes I came across in the book The Zen Teachings of Bodidharma authored by Red Pine and published by North Point Press ISBN 978-0-86547-399-7. They really resonated with me so I thought I would share them.
At the appearance of spirits, demons or divine beings, conceive neither respect nor fear. Your mind is basically empty. All appearances are illusions.
Eyes that aren’t attached to form are the gates of Zen.
Ikkyu 1394 – 1481
I believe that I’ve covered this concept before. However, I don’t think that I’ve ever had a truer understanding of what it actually means until now. Stuff that I’ve been reading lately coupled with my own experiences have really brought home to me that there is no destination apart from the actual journey. Wherever we find ourselves in any particular moment is our destination; it is Divinely and perfectly exactly where we need to be in accordance with the soul’s agenda (desire), and the soul’s desire is the only thing that matters. It is also a reminder that we do not have to search for anything in this life; we are already that which we seek.
Life is an eternal series of cycles that gives consciousness the opportunity to express and know itself through the physical form. It is also the process via which the individual soul evolves into the remembrance of its true nature (consciousness).
I’m reminded also of the quote from ancient Japanese Zen master, Ikkyu:-
“Having no destination I am never lost.”
I really love parables; especially Zen parables. The reason I love Zen parables so much is that quite often they are tongue-in-cheek, but at the same time very profound. As with all parables, we have no way of knowing if the stories actually happened, and because the meaning is never in the story itself, but in the subtext, I suppose it doesn’t really matter whether the story actually happened or not. The parable that I’m going to share with you is one of those rarities where I really hope that the story is a complete work of fiction. You will understand why as you read on.
Many centuries ago there was an old Zen master, who would raise his index finger in the air after engaging with disciples. Whether it was to an individual or a group, after imparting some wisdom, the master would raise his index finger in the air. This was a source of great amusement to a young boy in the village, and he would constantly mock the master every time he saw him by raising his finger in the air too. One day, the boy saw the master walking through the market place, and as usual he raised his index finger in the air in a mocking manner. As quick as a flash, the old man caught hold of the boy and cut off the finger. As the boy screamed in agony the master looked at him, raised his finger in the air and walked off.
A harsh lesson indeed and as I said, I really hope it isn’t true. However, the parable contains a beautifully profound message. It’s similar to the old story that says if you want to see the moon and stars, you have to look beyond the finger that’s pointing to them. For me, it is also an indication of the difference between a master and a teacher. A teacher will teach us what’s in the text book, everything that’s gone before; all the old stale stuff. A teacher will contribute to our conditioning, along with priests, parents, peers, media etc. Indeed, everything that shapes our thoughts about who we are as we are growing up. A master, on the other hand, treats everyone who comes to them as a unique individual and “points the way.”
A master doesn’t teach, in fact, I’ve heard it said that a master is the antidote to the teacher. A master points the way by giving us the key to ourselves. The greatest knowledge is Self-knowledge, and that isn’t something that can be taught. It is experiential and very unique to the one having the experience. The boy in the parable may have been young, but the master’s actions were saying, “I’ve cut your finger off, what are you going to do now? Look beyond the finger.”
I absolutely love this little parable from early 2019, so I’m posting again.
A king became exasperated with his court jester, who simply wouldn’t stop jesting. Seemingly every minute of every day, the jester would be cracking jokes and playing the fool. Eventually, the king decided he’d had enough and he condemned the jester to be hanged; ordering that he be taken to the dungeon to await his fate. The day of the execution arrived and the king started to have second thoughts. He felt that good court jesters were hard to come by, and after all, the poor bloke had only been doing his job. But, the king also felt that he couldn’t go back to the way things were, so he wrote out the royal pardon on official parchment and added the condition that the jester was not allowed to ever crack a joke again. He put the royal seal on it and gave it to one of his courtiers to take to the executioner.
The courtier ran to the gallows, and arrived in the nick of time to see the jester already standing on the trap door with the noose around his neck. The courtier blurted out that the king had changed his mind and that the execution should be halted; he then proceeded to read out the pardon. As the reading of the pardon came to an end, the jester just couldn’t contain himself and quipped, “no noose is good news”. He was hanged.
Of course that rather amusing story isn’t actually true, but it aptly explains how we function in accordance with our conditioning, as opposed to our true nature. When we are born into this world, we are pure, open and still aware of the love that we are. Gradually, as the years pass, we become conditioned; we are told that we are good or bad, beautiful or ugly, intelligent or thick etc, etc; and we become what we believe (or at least we THINK we have become what we believe). Then we enter adulthood and we get a job or career, adding that to “who I am” as we go along. In the case of the jester, “jestering” was what he did, it was not who he was. However, he was not able to drop the egoic belief that, “I am a jester”, so when the opportunity arose, he couldn’t resist the quip and was promptly executed.
Whether you are an ugly professor, a beautiful cleaner or a good retail assistant, the professor, the cleaner and the retail assistant are what you DO, they are not who you are. As to whether you are ugly, beautiful, good or bad, these are only judgements made by other people that you may or may not believe. They are also not who you are and do not have to define you. So, in life don’t be a silly jester; or the joke will be on you!
Image by Unsplash
A rich landowner was very well loved by all those who worked for him on account that he was a very caring and compassionate man. The man’s pride and joy and one real vice, was his wine cellar; of which he was immensely proud. He had wines of all vintages from all over the world, reds, whites, dry and sweet, before dinner, with dinner, after dinner; you name it, he had a wine for the occasion. Amongst all of his vast collection, there was one single bottle of an extremely rare vintage that he was waiting to share with the right person. Many a time he was on the verge of sharing, but it never quite happened.
One day the governour of the state visited him but the man thought to himself, “I can’t open this vintage wine and share it with a mere governour.” Soon after, he was visited by the Arch-Bishop, but “no” he thought, “this man just wouldn’t appreciate it.” He then entertained a member of the royal family, and as they supped he also felt that this royal simply wasn’t senior enough to taste the rare vintage. Even when his son got married, he was tempted then to crack open the bottle and toast the happy couple, but again had second thoughts, believing that none of the guests, or indeed his own son, were appreciative enough to taste the rare vintage. Eventually, the man became old and died and the rare vintage remained undrunk.
The day of his funeral came, and because he had been so kind and popular in life, all his employees and the peasants of the area were invited to attend a great celebration of his life. All the wine was brought out from the cellar, including the one, single bottle of the very rare vintage. The man’s family shared the wine with everyone present. However, the peasants and indeed the family, knew nothing of vintages and to them all that was poured into their cup was wine; plain and simple wine.
So it is in life too. No matter what status we are given by others, or whatever status we award ourselves, it all eventually comes down to the same thing. Death does not discriminate; it takes all of us eventually from our physical bodies. I am a firm believer, especially now I am older, that status is very superficial and holds no importance, except that which may be contextual. The greatest people I have ever known and been inspired by, have been those, that in the worldly sense of the word, had little or no status in life. They were people who were simply kind, caring and compassionate.
In Zen, death is considered to be part of life, a stepping stone to the next experience. I hope, my friend, that you drink and enjoy the wine of life that is your experience and I hope your chosen vintage is love…
Image by Ryan McGuire from Pixabay
A priest was giving a religious discourse to the inmates of an asylum. He was a few minutes into his sermon when one of the inmates started waving his arms about and shouting, “do we have to listen to this rubbish?” The priest paused, and looked at the support worker who was in attendance and asked, “shall I stop speaking?” The support worker replied, “no, it’s OK, carry on, you won’t hear any more from him; he only has one sane moment every seven years…
Indeed, one sane moment every seven years; that’s something that a lot of people would give their right arms for in this world that seems to have gone completely mad. It is so difficult in this day and age, to keep sane in a completely bonkers world. The problem is that we have all been corrupted by our conditioning, which started at a very early age.
The beauty of Zen, is that once it finds you, you can rest in the natural flow of things as chaos ensues all around. The thing is not to get sucked into the drama, but rather to remain a witness as the drama plays itself out before your eyes. In other words, be the stage, not the play. These days, I’m getting much better at doing this; but I haven’t quite got the knack of never succumbing to the tricks of the egoic mind. Even though I have noticed more and more lately, that everything I need just seems to flow effortlessly to me. I still find myself on occasion playing one of the characters in an unnecessary soap opera. Then inevitably, I have to feel the pain that comes with it before the penny drops and I revert back to the natural flow of the poetry that is Zen.
Don’t listen to the priest (ego), but equally, don’t be content with one sane moment every seven years. Be neither sane nor insane… Be…
A rather brash young man decided that he had attained enlightenment and no longer needed the guidance of his guru. He upped and left the temple and went around the region boasting of his spiritual achievements to anyone who would listen. He heard that there was a hermitage in a nearby town and decided he would make the journey and thrill the resident seekers and their master with his wisdom.
Photo by Raychan on Unsplash
En route, he took a pathway through a forest, and as he ambled on his way, he saw in the distance an old sanyassin leaning against a tree; there appeared to be clouds of smoke issuing up from around him. As the young man got closer he saw that the old man was smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He also decided that the old man would be an ideal candidate to hear the story of his spiritual greatness.
“Good day Sir”, said the young man, “I am an enlightened soul and it is your good fortune that I happened upon you. You may throw away your scriptures and spiritual texts, there is no pathway, no individual soul, no karma, no God, there is only the nothingness of consciousness; in fact, nothing exists.”
WHACK! As quick as a flash the old man rapped the young “master” around the head with his pipe. As the young man glared at him in anger, the old sanyassin said, “if nothing exists, where did that anger come from”, and he turned and went on his way..
The subject matter of this parable is something that I have written about before. But, I like this story so much that I wanted to share it here. Of course, technically what the young man said was correct, however, he fully deserved his rap on the head for his audacious display of ego. Truly enlightened souls never make the statement, “I am enlightened”, because in consciousness, “nothing” is indeed all that exists. But, to go around actually speaking of “nothing” in a dualistic world implies also the existence of “something.” Consciousness, in its limitless state of eternal bliss, has no idea that it is referred to as consciousness, because literally, “nothing” exists. So, in summary, to speak of being enlightened in a dualistic world only highlights that the ego is still present. An enlightened soul would never say, “I am enlightened” because the enlightened soul is only aware of the state of enlightenment, there is no duality to imply that there is also the state of “un” or “non” enlightenment.
There was once a simple farmer who kept a horse in his field. One day the horse got loose and ran away. A neighbour heard this news, and on crossing paths with the farmer said, “such bad news about your horse.” “Maybe”, said the farmer. A few days passed and the horse returned, bringing with it two more wild horses. Again the neighbour heard this news and on meeting the farmer in town said, “fantastic news about the horses.” “Maybe”, said the farmer.
One day a few weeks later, the farmer’s son was breaking in one of the new horses and it threw him, fracturing his leg in the process. The neighbour came to visit and on hearing what had happened said, “such bad luck with your son’s broken leg.” “Maybe”, said the farmer. Soon after this incident some officials from the military came calling. They were drafting young men into the army to go and fight in a war. On seeing the son’s condition they didn’t bother with him and went away. Again the neighbour heard and on seeing the farmer exclaimed, “such great luck that your son does not have to go to war.” “Maybe”, said the farmer.
This lovely little parable aptly illustrates several things that can be the cause of pain and suffering if we remain unaware of our true nature (consciousness). The farmer was obviously accepting of “what is.” He also understood that good and bad are simply personal judgements, and that the nature of the phenomenal world is cyclic.
He did not judge each situation as it occurred. He simply accepted each scenario in the understanding that the natural flow of nature would soon carry it on its way. Had he not accepted the seemingly unfortunate events exactly as they were, and instead formed a judgement that they were “bad”, the story playing out in his mind would have caused him to suffer. Equally, had he allowed the seemingly good fortune of events to carry him off on the crest of a wave, the judgement made by the egoic mind when the fortunes were reversed would have also caused him to suffer. In consciousness there is no relativity, no phenomena, nothing to judge. Instead of becoming embroiled, the farmer remained “the witness” to the dramas playing out before him on the stage we call life.
A rather brash young student heard that there was a very wise Zen master in the region and went to seek him out. He located the master in a mountain temple and turned up there one day asking for council. The young man was shown into the garden by one of the monks, where the master sat in peaceful contemplation. “I am very ambitious and I want you to tell me how I can fulfil my dreams of a successful life”, said the young man. Without looking at him, the master replied, “may your dreams not come true.” The young man became angry, “what do you mean, what kind of answer is that? I came here asking for your guidance, and that is all you can say to me; it seems that you are just an old fool.” Still angry, the young man turned and left.
Years passed and the brash young student became a brilliant architect; well respected in his field. He’d never forgotten his visit to the temple and what the master had said to him; in fact, it had played on his mind all through his studies and working life. It got to the point where he couldn’t stand it anymore and he decided to take a trip back to the region, seek out the master, and tell him exactly what he thought of him. He made the journey to the temple and demanded to see the master, who by now was quite old. He was shown once again into the garden where the master sat in peaceful contemplation. The man launched into his speech, “I came to see you many years ago to ask your guidance on my future, but you said, “may your dreams not come true.” I went away and studied and now I am a successful and well respected architect. Had I listened to you I would have achieved nothing, what do you think of that?”
The master looked at the man, smiled and said, “yes, I remember you. So, you are now an architect are you? Successful and well respected you say? It seems that the only thing you are the architect of is your own bitterness.” In that moment, the man suddenly realised what the master had meant all those years ago, and bowing his head in gracious humility, he apologised for his rudeness and left.
This story, at first glance, doesn’t appear to make any sense; why would anyone not follow their dreams? Did the man not become very successful in his chosen profession? However, the beauty of such stories is that they are very profound, and the reader has to dig much deeper in order to find the truth contained within them. When we focus on outer goals, while at the same time neglecting the inner, we are only strengthening the ego. The man in the story illustrates this by having held on to his bitterness for so many years. The soul, however, contains unlimited possibilities, so by focusing our attention on one worldly goal we are blocking those possibilities.
When we focus on the inner, we are allowing life to open up to us in countless ways. Had the man in the story not been so headstrong, he could have been a successful and well respected architect whilst at the same time enjoying all the unlimited opportunities that life offered. Instead, his success (which was only relative) came at a price; the bitterness that poisoned his soul, until the penny finally dropped and he understood the master’s teaching.
My plan for my next book was to put 20 mainly Zen-based parables together as a sort of “pocket companion”. I set about putting my document together and realised that I’d miscounted; I’d only written 19. So, here is number 20!
A monk was taking the long journey home to visit his family and inadvertently took a wrong path. He came to the point where he faced a wide river that was fast-flowing. He looked up and down and could see no way across. He puzzled over his predicament for several hours. As he was about to give up and turn back, he saw an old mendicant passing by on the opposite bank. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted across, “Sir, Sir, can you tell me how to get to the other side?” The old man stopped and looked across. He paused for a moment and then shouted back, “my child, you are already on the other side”.
How apt to end my project with another little reminder that we are already where we need to be. The journey itself is the destination. Consciousness is eternal and constantly evolving, so even when we make a plan, set a goal or take a journey, it is only one of an infinite number of experiences that we encounter in our own individual evolution. The torrentially flowing river is the mind (ego) that puts imaginary obstacles in our way. When the veil of delusion is removed there is the realisation that there is only the One timeless Self; there never was an ego, but the false belief that there was (“I am the body” identification) enabled us to take a journey within time and space that was ultimately the means by which we realised the truth of our being.
In the end we will all come to know that the path was actually pathless, that the road travelled was a road to nowhere, to the eternal bliss of nothingness that we all are.
Author - Richard F Holmes 