FTP and COOMBSQUEST gopher on the node COOMBS.ANU.EDU.

AU The document's ftp filename and the full directory path are given in the coombspapers top level INDEX file. Date of the document's last update/modification 03/09/93 -------------------------------------------------------ZEN IN THE ART OF LIVING part 1 of 3 original filename: zenl1-3.txt -------------------------------------------------------This file is the work of Stan Rosenthal. It has been placed here, with his kind permission, by Bill Fear. The author has asked that no hard copies, ie. paper copies, are made. Stan Rosenthal may be contacted at 44 High street, St. Davids, Pembrokeshire, Dyfed, Wales, UK. Bill Fear may be contacted at 29 Blackweir Terrace, Cathays, Cardiff, South Glamorgan, Wales, UK. Tel (0222) 228858 email fear@thor.cf.ac.uk. Please use email as first method of contact, if possible. Messages can be sent to Stan Rosenthal via the above email address - they will be forwarded on in person by myself - B.F. NOTE: You may find and odd sentence or missing information every now and again in the files. Hopefully not to frequently. This is because the files were originally written on a machine using CP/M and had to be converted to dos format. Many of the 5.25 disks were very old and had bad sectors - thus missing info. ...............................Beginning of file............................... ....................................1 of 3..................................... SOSAN ONE RIGHT MOTIVE AND RIGHT ACTION There are many philosophies and religions which teach that 'actions speak louder than words', but it is both the thought or motive, and the action, which are important. This position was stated by Lao Tzu when he wrote in the 'Tao Te Ching', "To act without contrived intent is to act without contriving; this is the way of nature, and so is the way of the Tao." This is expressed in the precepts as, "Know that right motive is essential to right action, just as right thought is essential to right words." An example of this is demonstrated in the story below, which refers to the first meeting or interview between a student and roshi. It is a cautionary tale, developed from a story in 'Tao, the Gateless Gate'. A young man wished to attend Zen sesshin. Having a friend who already did so, he asked his friend to mention to the roshi that he would like to attend. His friend agreed, but warned him, 'If the roshi agrees to meet you, for goodness sake be careful that you do not appear to think that you know too much. The roshi is really very kind, but he believes very much that we should not boast of what we know. He told a story once of an ancient teacher interviewing a new student for the first time. Well,

it seems that the student kept boasting of what he already knew, but the teacher ignored his boasting, and asked the student if he would like a cup of tea. The student held the cup, and the old teacher began to pour some tea into it.......but the student kept on boasting. The more the student boasted, the more tea was poured, until it overflowed onto the student's lap. He shouted out for the teaher to stop, and the old man did so, but said, "When the cup is full, behold, no room for more. So if, this mystic wisdom, you would sup, ensure that you come hither with an empty cup." The young man laughed at the story, and thanked his friend for the warning, assuring him that he would remember it. When the time came for him to meet the teacher, he presented himself. Bowing deeply, he said, "Behold master, my cup is empty." To his surprise, the teacher shook his head sadly, and said to him, "Oh dear. You'd best go away, and come back when you've learnt some manners." When the young man received, and told "That's a real I didn't warn next saw his friend, he complained at the treatment he had him exactly what had happened. His friend replied, pity, but you can't say that you."

Although it may be somewhat difficult to understand, the story is meant to illustrate that motive, words and actions must support each other. Although the student's bow (the action) was appropriate, his words implied that he thought he both knew and understood about having 'an empty cup'. However, the fact that it was the first thing he said, illustrated to the teacher that he did not understand it well enough to apply it, for the concept of 'the empty cup' implies that in order to learn, we must have humility; even to the point that we should not boast of 'our cup being empty'. To someone who knows nothing of our teaching, the roshi's response to the student in the above story, might seem somewhat harsh. However the purpose of the initial interview is to provide both the student and the teacher with an opportunity to decide whether the other person is one with whom they think a relationship would be fruitful. This is described in a short verse from 'Tao, the Gateless Gate'; "With that same right the student has to choose his guide, the master also makes his choice as to whom to teach, and whom to leave alone. For as the student seeks a master in whom he sees that which he seeks, so does the master, through his experience, seek to test the student, and his willingness to learn." It is a criticism sometimes directed at us that we should provide more instruction on what is wrong or should not be done, in general and in specific situations. It is our belief though, that the emphasis on what is right leads naturally to 'right motive and right action', and that this in turn leads to a positive attitude towards life. In the light of these things, what then might we answer to the question,

"What is 'right motive'?" We might answer that in essence it is a motive which is directed towards the synergic (harmonious) response to situations, and away from assertive or contrived actions; it is that which is concerned with seeking to discover in what ways people and situations are different and in which ways similar, and with discovering ourselves rather than with changing others merely because we wish them to be other than they are. Similarly, if asked, "What is 'right action'?", we might reply that it is the physical manifestation or realization (making real) of right motive. It is an action which is not contrived for self-advantage, even if the outcome is advantageous to oneself. If a roshi is asked such a question by an advanced and meritous student who has proven himself to be worthy of such an answer, the teacher might reply that it is as described above, but add that it can also be, "an action which is 'without motive', for there is no other action which is as right as that which is performed without motive, but with 'wu wei'. To describe an action as being performed with wu wei, is to describe it as a state in which there is no difference between the perfomer of the act and the act which is performed, nor the act and the environment in which it occurs. The state in which we exist when we act with wu wei is the state which we enter when we are, even for an instant, perfectly attuned to the totality of our environment, and so are 'without being and yet with infinite being'." Difficulty in comprehending such a statement as this does not imply stupidity or ignorance on the part of the student, but only indicates the probability that he or she has not yet 'passed through sufficient gates', the 'gates' being a metaphorical reference to barriers which can become exits from one mode of being and entrances into another. Since they are capable of being one the one hand, barriers, and on the other, exits and entrances, they are refered to as the 'gateless gates'. It is these gates which form the subject of the book by that name. Of all the 'gates' there may be in a person's life, 'wu wei' ('effortless effort' or 'actionless action') is often one of the most difficult to pass through, and of all the Taoist teachings, it is one of the most difficult to understand, and to apply. In fact we cannot apply it, but only 'allow it to apply itself'. The analogy of water is sometimes used to describe wu wei, as the following paragragh illustrates. When water running down the side of a mountain is blocked by a stone in its path, it builds up behind that stone, filling and conforming to the space available. When that space is filled, the water washes over or around the stone. The water does not contrive to do this, nor to continue in its downward direction; and by filling the space behind the stone, may 'flow upwards to flow down'. It does not contrive, it is incapable of contriving, and nor does nature contrive on behalf of water. Although water is the most adaptive of all the elements, it possesses wu wei in the greatest abundence, and in acting without motive, acts with wu wei. All this is to say that water responds to its enviroment, and to act with wu wei, this is all we need to do. Whilst understanding of wu wei may be difficult, acting with wu wei is simplicity or naturalness itself, but in order to act in this way we must remove that which stands in its way. In life there are many such barriers, but the most usual are probably ego (to do what we want, and to have others conform to what we want) and 'conditioning' (to behave in a

manner in which we have been 'trained' to behave, usually as a result of upbringing). To overcome these barriers we must 'let go' of the ego, and of our 'conditioned selves', for it is only then that we can act with wu wei, which is to perceive and accept situations as they are, and respond to them in complete harmony. Another story from 'Tao, the Gateless Gate' illustrates this well. "The master of the sword was fearsome in his mode of being, so much that even those of international grade would venture not to even smile when he stepped in to take the class. One student though, he singled out; and for an hour or more, did rant and shout, and guide and chase around the hall, calling out which stroke should be next, and then, which after that. The student's limbs first ached, then ceased to ache. The soundless sound came to his head, and he lost awareness of his fellow students watching as he moved about. The the master called for him to stop, and as he stopped, the master bowed. The student bowed his thanks, but as he rose, a laugh from deep inside came out. And lo, to the amazement of them all, the awesome teacher threw back his head, and laughing at the private joke the two had shared, strode, still laughing, from the hall." In one respect, this story illustrates 'kufu' (technique beyond technique) of which more will be said later, but it also provides a very good example of wu wei. Those students familiar with 'Kendo' (the art of the sword) will easily appreciate that one does not easily burst into laughter whilst under instruction, but the fact that the student's laughter was 'right action' is confirmed by the teacher's laughter in response. The student's laughter and the teacher's reciprocal laughter are both examples of wu wei, which in this situation was 'right motive', namely no motive at all, but simply a response to the situation. Whilst it may be difficult to comprehend, the reason why the other students wh 'watched as he moved about' did not join in the laughter, was that although they saw the incident, they were not a part of it. This means that as observers of the situation they were seperate or detached from it, and therefore could not respond to it with wu wei. The significant fact then about wu wei is that it is situational rather than personal; or that the 'sponaneous response' is to the situation rather than to a person or people who are a part of that situation. In order to respond to a situation in a manner which conforms to that situation, we must 'let go' of our own (or anybody else's) role in that situation, for it is the situation itself, in its totality, to which we respond.......and this is the essence of 'right thought, right words, right motive or right action'. SOSAN TWO COMPASSION Although Zen tends not say a great deal about what is wrong, there are many things which it describes or implies strongly through its advice as being 'right', and these are described in the precepts by such statements as the first, which reads, "Have compassion for all sentient beings, causing them no unnecessary hurt, nor needless harm."

It should be noted that this phrase talks of 'unnecessary hurt' and 'needless harm' as though it is impossible not to cause hurt or harm. This is in fact an accurate perception of the Zen view, which is that it is very unlikely that we can go though life without causing any hurt or harm at all. For example, we may kill an animal or plant for food as a necessity of life; and many parents are hurt when their offspring leave home, even though they know logically that it is a natural occurrence. In neither case does this mean that the hurt is caused deliberately, but that it would be unrealistic to believe that it did not occur at all, just as we should accept that using a sharp instrument in order to remove a splinter might cause hurt, but is a neccessity, if only as an act of compassion which we might carry out in order to prevent an infection which might otherwise occur. True compassion, as described in Zen Taoism, seems to be somewhat different from that described in many religions; or at least as far as its motives are concerned, for in Zen we are told that even an act which might benefit another person is not really an act of true compassion if it is carried out for reasons of self- advantage. In this instance it seems that many religions teach that compassion can 'reach beyond the grave', since they advise that our reward for such acts will be found in heaven. Zen offers no such promise, and considers it wrong that we should be compassionate in order to 'store up credits' as though heaven is a great 'Open University of the cosmos'. The Zen Taoist view is that we should not be without compassion, because without compassion, we are incomplete; and if we have compassion as part of our being, then we will not need to contrive or think of 'being' compassionate. This is the same as saying that with regard to compassion, we should be without motive. In chapter five of the Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu says, "Even when he seems to act in a manner kind or benevolent, the sage is not acting with such intent, for he is amoral and indifferent." This is not to say that the sage is indifferent to human suffering or needs, but that when he performs an act which is compassionate, he does so simply because it is his nature to do so, rather than out of any sense of morality or reward. Zen Taoism considers that there are 'three precious attributes', namely, compassion, economy of effort (efficiency), and courage. Further on compassion, Lao Tzu tells us (in chapter sixty-seven), "Only he who is compassionate can show true bravery, and in defending, show great strength. Compassion is the means by which mankind may be guarded and saved, for heaven arms with compassion those whom it would not see destroyed." Although it may seem a tautology, we believe that 'true compassion must be compassionate'. What is meant by this is that even when (say) giving food to a starving person, we should do so in a manner which does not cause them to feel as if they are begging. Similarly, a nurse who is truly compassionate will not cause a patient to feel helpless but will increase that person's feeling of self worth. In Buddhism it is sometimes said that 'compassion is the essence of Buddha-nature', and there is a famous koan in which the teacher is asked whether a dog can have Buddha-nature. The teacher replies 'mu', which mean 'no' or 'nothing'. In this instance 'mu' does not mean that a dog cannot have Buddha

nature, but that the question is a 'nothing' question (an unprofitable question). The implication here is that although all animals are sentient beings (they have feelings) they do not normally have free will, but may simply respond to environmental stimuli. Many people who have dogs or cats as pets will claim that their pet can recognise when they (the 'owner') feels sad, and will then approach them in a comforting way. We might ask whether this is not a compassionate act, and the answer would, in one sense be yes, for the animal responds to the sadness of its 'owner'. In another sense though the answer is no, for the animal cannot be said to choose to be compassionate. We need only to think of a cat, from which we might gain considerable comfort if it snuggles into our lap and purrs when we are feeling sad. To understand such a feeling as comfort with regard to compassion, we need to ask whether the comfort we feel is due to a compassionate act on the part of the cat, or simply our own physiological response to its warmth, movement and sound. This is not to deny what we feel, but only to illustrate that what appears to be a compassionate act might be in fact a selfish action on the part of the cat, who may simply be responding to its own need to be stroked. The reason why this example has been used is that we consider many acts which appear to be compassionate, to be in reality 'selfish' in that the person who performs the act does so knowing that he or she 'feels good' after having performed that act. This does not mean that the act itself is wrong, nor that we should stop ourselves from performing such acts. What it does mean is that we should accept the reality of our motives, and not delude ourselves into believing that an act which has a hedonistic or subjectively pleasurable basis is performed for altruistic reasons. As was mentioned at the beginning of this sosan, it may even seem that it could be necessary to cause hurt in order to be compassionate, and this is in fact our belief. But it is also our belief that where this is the case, the hurt should be minimised so as to cause 'no needless hurt'. Much misunderstanding of Zen results from accounts of the ferocious actions of early Zen warriors, but when we understand those actions more fully it aids our understanding of Zen itself. Zen became accepted widely in Japen during a particularly warlike feudal period, and in common with present times, rulers or war lords hired mercenary soliders to lead their own troops, in those days a peasant army of foot soldiers. The best of these mercenaries were the 'samuri', (which means quite simply 'paid retainer'), and some of these were the desendents of 'Bushi' ('military scholars' or knights). As was the case at the time in Europe, they would sometimes be paid through 'the spoils of war', being given tracts of land or plundered goods in return for their services. A particularly skilled samuri could obviously command a higher fee than others, and in order that their exploits would be known to prospective clients, the samuri used whatever means were available to publicise their bravery and fighting skills. Unfortunately though, in common with (say) politicians of our own era, many of them came to believe their own 'publicity machine'. The more they swaggered and strutted in a 'cavalier manner' greater their power became over the simple peasant people, who held them in awe. The samuri became much like soldiers in any age, believing themselves to be above the law. Because they were of such value to the feudal lords, the laws were in fact changed, giving the samuri (for example) the legal right to strike down any person who they believed had insulted them. It was by no means uncommon for a peasant farmer to be killed by a samuri simply for looking at him as though he were 'strange' especially since many of the samuri were quite outrageous in both dress and manner. However, notwithstanding the arrogant manner, strange extrovert garb and

swaggering gaite of many samuri of the period, they were frequently not so self-assured or confident as their appearance displayed, and this is by no means difficult to understand, considering the high risk nature of their work. In the period being described, a soldier was expected to die in battle rather than surrender. A famous 'picture poem' depicts this vulnerability, showing a samuri warrior turning his head secretively to look behind him, the accompanying poem being, "I thought that I had far to go until I turned and saw that I had passed my destination many years before." The implication here is that the destiny of the samuri was determined by his action in becoming a samuri, and that his destiny would be to die in battle. In such a stressful occupation it is hardly surprising that many samuri found comfort in the 'new import' from China, namely Zen Buddhism, which at least offered a means of relaxing through 'zazen' (seated meditation), and its 'contempt' for death. Others went to the monasteries in order to learn the unarmed combat techniques used by the monks to defend themselves, and stayed to learn the philosophy taught in the self same monasteries. The seemingly paradoxical nature of Zen Taoism is perhaps epitomized by its teaching that one should be prepared to defend oneself, yet have a contempt for death. The Zen view however is that the two issues are quite separate, the one being concerned with the transient nature of life itself (and that life is only a part of something more), and the other issue being that we have an obligation not to encourage aggression, even by default. In the unique blend of study and experience employed in Zen training the Samuri undoubtedly learned something of Zen Buddhist philosophy and they would certainly have related to the concepts of the transience and impermanence of life, and even more, to the notions of 'karma', life cycles and reincarnations as these are taught in most Buddhist forms of Zen. They doubtless also learned the precept concerned with compassion which is common to all forms of Zen. Although warfare itself can hardly be described as compassionate, there are compassionate ways in which a soldier can act. For example, in a situation where an opponant is less skilled in battle, a compassionate warrior would not deliberately prolong the battle, and even if it was allowed by law, a compassionate samuri would not strike down a bystander merely because of a derogatory glance. Whilst Zen does not condone theft, the precept on compassion can help us to think even of this act in a manner which is in some ways different from the teching of other philosophies. This does not mean that we should allow all our worldly possessions to be taken from us, but that we might help even someone who wishes to possess something which belongs to us, and who believes that it can only be obtained by stealth, agression or violence. To help that person realise that such behaviour may be unnecesary, is considered to be an act of compassion, as the following story illustrates. A Taoist teacher went out visiting for the evening, and when he returned home he disturbed a theif who was just leaving his home with a bundle of clothes he had stolen. The two men stared at each other for a moment, and the thief said, "I suppose you are going to try and stop me from stealing these clothes from you." The teacher smiled, and the intruder continued, "I should warn you, I won't give them up easily." The teacher then said, "There is no need for you to return them, and there is no need for me to take them back by force. Yet I can still prevent

you from stealing them." The intruder looked at the teacher in a puzzled manner, and the old man continued, "You have not taken anything which I would sorely miss, so that which you have taken I give you as a gift in order to prevent you from being a thief." It is said that the recipient of the clothing returned sometime later to become a student of the teacher. Whether the story (or the outcome) are true is less important than what it illustrates, namely that it is possible to be compassionate in a variety of circumstances, and that it is possible to reduce even the 'hurt' within one's self by acting with compassion towards someone who acts towards us in a manner which pays no heed to our thoughts or feelings. This is not the same as the Christian concept of 'turning the other cheek', but means that we can in fact change the very nature of the situation by changing our attitude towrds it. In this respect the term 'situation' has a connotation which is perhaps unique to Zen, this being a willingness to 'let go' of our own preconceived 'role' in that situation (as described in more detail at the end of the previous sosan). To act in a truly compassionate manner then, is to become a part of a compassionate situation, which means to be compassionate (since it is the situation which is compassionate, and we are compassionate if we are totally a part of that situation). SOSAN THREE THE NEGATIVE PASSIONS There is a particular way in which Zen does in fact give us advice or direction away from what it considers to be 'wrong', or to be more precise, away from that which it considers to be harmful to the development of the individual and to society. We are advised in the precepts to, "Seek liberation from the negative passions of hatred, envy, greed and rage, and especially from delusion, deceit and sensory desire." In many respects this statement relates closely to the precept referring to 'needless hurt and unnecessary harm', since Zen teaches us that hurt and harm are often caused unnecessarily or needlessly as a result of these 'needless passions'. It teaches that liberation from them reduces the likelihood of our causing hurt or harm to others. Examples of hurt being caused to others as a result of hatred and rage are obvious, but envy and greed are themselves negative emotions which can drive the unwary individual to perform acts against others which he or she might later regret. It is fundamental to Zen that we should try to live our lives in a manner which causes no regret. However, it is not only the hurt or harm we cause others which is the concern of Zen, but also the hurt or harm which we might cause ourselves to undergo. It is in this respect also that the negative passions are considered to be harmful to the person who possesses them (or who is possessed by them ) since they use energy which could otherwise be used for creative purposes, and it is for this reason that delusion is included as a negative passion or emotion. Perhaps it is for this very practical reason that Zen is so honest, since to be anything other than honest would be a disservice both to the philosophy and to its followers. As was stated in the introduction, there are many misconceptions concerning Zen,

and those who do not know its reality are sometimes concerned that it may be a 'cult', similar in some way to those which gain their followers by promising such rewards as 'instant enlightenment', 'sexual liberation', or 'eternal salvation'. Of course, Zen offers no such promises (in fact it makes no promises at all) and offers no rewards. What it does do though is to offer an alternative 'path' which some, and not others. On the choice of a path, 'Tao, the Gateless Gate' offers the following advice, "Many are the true paths which to enlightenment do lead, and there is no enlightened one who would deny the truth of any one of these. But among those paths we must avoid are those which would deny enlightenment to those who other paths have chosen. And also, false are they which do but seek to gratify the body, senses, or the mind, and those which do require that we abstain from worldly life. Apart from these, we have no right by which we might deny a man his chosen path, unless his path denies our right to choose, or can be seen to do the chooser harm. True paths all lead to that estate which we may call enlightenment, and all men have the gift to use it, to pass beyond that concept of themselves, which they, or others have allowed to predetermind what they are, and what they should remain. Whilst illustrating well that Zen does not consider itself the only path of value, this verse does provide a warning against those paths which offer 'escape' from reality by means of 'gratification of the body, senses or the mind', or by delusion (those paths which 'do the chooser harm'). .................................End of file................................... ...................................1 of 3......................................