Authority

What is the source of a guru’s authority? He can tell you that he speaks from experience, that he has experienced states of consciousness that have made him profoundly blissful, understanding, compassionate, or whatever. You have his word for it and you may have the word of other people who likewise agree with him. But each one of them, and you in turn, agrees with him from out of your own opinion, and by your own judgment. So it is you who are the source of the teacher’s authority. That is true whether he speaks as an individual or as the representative of a tradition or a church.
– Alan Watts

Wild-eyed prophets, drunk on the Word, and infused with the power of the Book. Channeling the Holy Spirit in solitude, their experiences are displaced with each new revelation. With appeals to intelligences greater than our own, and their own realizations, they come bearing a new Law and standard for all humanity. A group crystallizes around the promise of the divine. The teacher’s mask of sanity begins to slip as the group’s utopian dream begins to devolve into a nightmare. Bearing witness to the leader’s fragmentation, the aspirants begin to question the authority they had invested in their former master.

In seeking the circumference of truth through practices such as meditation, we are thrust back upon ourselves. We may come to discover that we are the very expression of this truth. New coordinates are always being created, shifting in their configurations. Each development is a frontier. Possibilities loom, beckon, and threaten as we run deep into the unknown. Everyone must create their own path, seeking connection to this deeply personal yet universal source within us all. In this process of mutual co-creation we support each other as we explore our own potential.

Through practices such as Zazen or other types of self-inquiry, we may begin to develop a nascent sense of our own authority. This involves exploring questions that have relevance to us, how they resonate, and seeing how these concepts forge diverse connections. Through fear, many of us cling to outmoded worldviews or devalue our own unique contributions in thrall of a teacher or tradition. In this pursuit of our own truths we may not be able to rely on the opinions of others.

As humans, it is natural to look to others during the process of inquiry. It also makes sense to defer to teachers in certain situations and in certain contexts. However, this does not mean giving up on our root moral convictions. The teacher’s own authority is given back by the students, and they could not survive without the students’ continued belief. The body of their tradition is maintained by its constituents continued enacting of their precepts. Unquestioning acceptance of dogma merely perpetuates these flawed systems. This is especially true in spiritual and religious traditions, as the guru needs others to maintain their own internal dynamics of power. In some cases, this becomes parasitic as the teacher begins to feed on the vitality of its members without recourse to their well being.

However, it may begin to dawn on us, the more we reflect, that there is no firm basis on which this authority can rest. It must always be pushed back an extra step, whether in some experience that confers it, a book that delineates it, or a conceptual system that valorizes it, to name a few. We can begin to move beyond and outgrow our beliefs as we realize that the authority that we seek, and the forms of life that we value, rest within ourselves.

The more we test these teachers, examining their own expanses, the more we may get a sense of their unique limits and contradictions. Rather than the shattering loss that we had feared it to be, we are given a chance to discover what we really value. The student begins to move on their own initiative. With time and reflection, we get used to bearing the increasing responsibility for our own growth and development.

Many concepts in Buddhism are experiential and meant to be understood in an engaged, embodied way. We must move past interpretations that are imposed upon us by the external, and check the veracity of Buddhism’s claims against our own experience and in light of our own explorations. We are then capable of moving out of of our safe enclaves of rote habit and thought. In the process, we become authorities unto ourselves, communicating the light of our truth to others.

Anything that is accepted for any reason apart from its being consistent with one’s firsthand experience will eventually become an obstacle.
– Ngakpa Chogyam, Khandro Dechen

We also may discover that the freedom that this entails is inherently painful. It is much easier to accept a pre-packaged or commodified meaning of life than to create one for ourselves, or to admit our fundamental unknowing. It is much simpler to be told what to do, and to pass on this awesome responsibility, than to continually learn, develop, and change. It is all too easy to retreat behind the veil that others throw out to obscure their own deep mysteries. We are riven open by this freedom which asks everything of us.

Intertwined with this pain lies expansion, moving us through our comfort zone. The void of possibility prevents any one perspective or interpretation from becoming absolute, and we no longer fold under the weight of our own intellectualizations. This would confine the potentials of life and its infinite scope. Understanding this intuitively, without recourse to doctrine, is one possible facet of Zen practice. Without an apparent foundation or direction to life, we can grow in new dimensions at any time. This lack of finality applies to the opinions and perspectives of others, and changes how we confer authority on all that we encounter. We reclaim our natural spontaneity, a liquid intelligence that is sensitive and responsive to situations as they develop.

We no longer have to look to others as the ultimate arbiters in our search for truth. The question then becomes: how we can not only delve into and create our own values, but how we can bring them into our own lives? How will we express this? As Eihei Dogen says in the Shobogenzo, “investigate this thoroughly.” We enter into our own participation. A moral sense begins to dawn anew.

Find the seat from which your authority issues forth. This is to drink from the same boundless waters as the matriarchs and patriarchs.

Witness Yourself Transformed

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.

The Sermon on the Mount stands as one of the most significant ethical works in the world’s literary canon. It is an articulation of love compassed in humanity’s shared identity and grounded in the one life. Rejecting worldly and ostentatious expressions of prayer and generosity, the Sermon challenges us to live its message to the fullest. It puts before us an arduous and difficult journey that culminates in and continuously realizes a love that knows no limits It asks us to love others as we do ourselves, with an ardor that exists in the deep connections between self and other, fused together in mutuality.

The message of love goes beyond our ideas of self, other, time and space and exists as an intimation of the eternal. For in going beyond ourselves, we come to realize in the importance and necessity of our actions. In loving all that we encounter, the entire landscape of reality is reconfigured.

One of the most exemplary passages from the Sermon is its discussion on the shadow. The shadow lives in the gaps of our self-image, setting into motion in our own lives what we despise in others.

The Shadow is not what we know about ourselves and don’t like (or like but keep hidden) but rather what we don’t know about ourselves and, if accused of it, would adamantly and sincerely deny.
– Bill Plotkin

Immersed in the detritus of humanity we focus heavily on the faults of others. We do not notice that we all share in the dark heart of Eden; the ichor that runs from our universal wounding. We disgorge these judgments like the effluvia of social life. Once we begin a thorough observation of our own behavior, we see how we hypocritically participate in that which we deny. This self-blindness is part of the human condition. Through our practice we begin to bring the light of awareness down into the most neglected spaces of the soul.

Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

In suspending our constant judgment of others we begin to notice how our judgments turn reciprocally upon us. Our constant criticism pulls us further down into isolation. When we err, and engage in the behavior we project onto others, the wheels of our judgment turn on us once more. Our limited perspective and lack of information guarantees further mistakes. The Sermon, in bringing our attention to this fact, is asking us to look inside ourselves as best we can.

Delving inside our own minds, we understand and transform so that we can more authentically be of help to others. Once we lock eyebrows with the unknown places within, we will be able to reach out and help amend the world’s suffering. Until then, our actions will frequently do more harm than good.

As an extension of this, the Sermon expounds loving one’s enemy, not only as a reflection of oneself, but as God does, nourishing and generating the diverse phenomena of the world without exception. In fact, the following passage asks nothing less from Jesus’ followers than perfection:

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

If we are constantly at war with ourselves and others, we will never know peace, both within and without.

For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses . . .

So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.

The Sermon rejects alms that merely perpetuate our selfishness and socially fabricated identities. These actions perpetuate the ego and exist as blatant forms of advertisement. Instead of generosity coming from a place beyond separation and free of the lust of result, the giving becomes a corrupt method of self-advancement.

Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.

Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

The Sermon offers an emphatic critique of those who outwardly profess to be spiritual, but in reality are skillful manipulators and maneuverers for social advantage. One will be able to recognize these people from the effects of their actions:

Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will recognize them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? So, every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. A healthy tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a diseased tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will recognize them by their fruits.

This grows into an ethics that is righteousness for its own sake and done for the integrity of the whole.

You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you.

A person who has gone beyond themselves in this way has given over totally to the redemptive power of love. The way to this all-embracing love is as fraught with danger as a mountain pass. At every turn, we risk subverting ourselves, the ego turning this love as an instrument for its own aggrandizement, plunging back into the depths.

Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.

Rather than keeping us in prisons of our own creation, this deep form of knowledge places us into the all consuming presence of the Heavenly Father. The Sermon then coaxes us even further with this realization. Instead of fortifying ourselves with this understanding, and using it as the basis for an even more rigid and static self, we are asked to continually put this into practice. There is no love without sacrifice, and we offer ourselves up and give fully to creation. We become a conduit of generosity and harmony.

The Sermon also asks us to not to cohere our lives around the temporal and transitory, but on the eternal, the ultimate reality which supports the entire universe.

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

We then actualize a love of all being. Rather than superficial professions of faith, making this concrete becomes the measure of one’s love of God.

Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.

Once we have set store on the eternal, we infuse the bedrock of our lives with love and compassion. The crowds listening at the end are astonished, as Jesus speaks from the heart and lived experience. The Sermon’s words resound from within the dynamic pulse of life.

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.

And when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he was teaching them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes.

Nothing to Attain

I have been trying to get back to the local Zen Center every week, after a short hiatus. We do 50 minutes of Zazen (seated meditation), combined with some chanting and Kinhin (walking meditation). After the practice, some of us were talking in the kitchen and a student (I unfortunately can’t remember her name, all credit due to her) asked a pretty insightful question referencing the Heart Sutra and practice in general. This question was along the lines of: “If there is no attainment and nothing to attain, why do we sit?” I think this is a pretty common question that arises as we sit, especially as we continue to grow in our practice and the discursive mind begins to seek answers to questions such as these.

A similar question supposedly motivated Eihei Dogen in his own process of inquiry:

As I study both the exoteric and the esoteric schools of Buddhism, they maintain that human beings are endowed with Dharma-nature by birth. If this is the case, why did the Buddhas of all ages – undoubtedly in possession of enlightenment – find it necessary to seek enlightenment and engage in spiritual practice? (Eihei Dogen: Mystical Realist, 22).

This is a profoundly challenging question. If we are the very embodiment of truth and enlightenment is an expression of our original nature why do we sit in Zazen? Is this like the koan where we are polishing a tile to make a mirror?

Let us examine the passage from the Heart Sutra the student is referencing and then I’ll try to give you my understanding of this.

The passage (taken from Red Pine’s translation) is:

No suffering, no source, no relief, no path;
No knowledge, no attainment and non-attainment.
Therefore, Shariputra, without attainment;
Bodhisttavas take refuge in Prajnaparamita
And live without walls of the mind.

The Heart Sutra is an essential Buddhist text that directly inclines us to the heart of truth. This is the truth of our lives, of the present, and of reality. Buddhism is realistic, and derives directly from lived experience. It is a very concrete approach to truth that is not limited to any particular concept or metaphysic. In our meditative practice, the concepts we form about reality begin to fall away, and the immeasurable complexity and richness of the world become starkly apparent. We no longer have to relegate the whole of the world to our opinions about it, and no longer need to take refuge in systems and frameworks of our own devising.

The Heart Sutra is thus a critique of these concepts, and proceeds to negate each in turn. Proceeding through “no eye, no ear, no nose, no tongue, no body and no mind;” and come to “no knowledge, no attainment and no non-attainment.” The present opens, teeming with life.  It becomes clear that reality is unfettered by the symbols we traditionally use to describe that experience. Throughout our practice we begin to see our concepts as fundamentally incomplete. We “live without walls of the mind,” open to the boundless possibilities for action in each moment. A vast field opens up, and we become more flexible and fluid.

The Heart Sutra is thus an antidote to our mind’s constantly seeking security in concepts such as “attainment.” When we say that we will “attain” enlightenment, we divorce ourselves from the present reality. We project enlightenment into a state in the abstract, that will be realized in the future.

Asking what exactly we mean when we use concepts such as englightenment can help us as we look into ourselves.  Taking apart this question and exploring it should be gone into deeply and taken to the end.

At the same time, we will not be able to understand the feelings that gave rise to works such as the Heart Sutra without a regular meditative practice. This is similar to how no amount of reading, writing, and intellectualizing about fitness will make someone a stronger athlete. One must begin by looking into the particulars of their own situation. We sit in order to aid us in this process of inquiry, as sitting is one method that allows us to investigate our reality. This understanding will not be brought into our lives without some kind of practice. An example of this is brought out in Genjokoan:

Mayu, Zen Master Baoche, was fanning himself. A monk approached and said ‘Master, the nature of wind is permanent and there is no place it does not reach. Why, then, do you fan yourself?’
‘Although you understand that the nature of wind is permanent,’ Mayu replied, ‘you do not understand the meaning of its reaching everywhere.’
‘What is the meaning of its reaching everywhere?’ asked the monk.
Mayu just kept fanning himself.
The monk bowed deeply.

The actualization of the buddha dharma, the vital path of its authentic transmission, is like this. If you say that you do not need to fan yourself because the nature of wind is permanent and you can have wind without fanning, you understand neither permanence nor the nature of wind. The nature of wind is permanent; because of that, the wind of the buddha house brings forth the gold of the earth and ripens the cream of the long river.

This passage describes and directly points to actualization and action in the present moment, the becoming-real of the monk’s interaction. In our practice, we bring this understanding and appreciation for action into our lives. Sitting in Zazen helps us to see this with more clarity. It is important to remember that there is “nothing to attain” even as we do our best to practice. In this way we always come back to and appreciate whatever is arising in our lives in the present moment, without arbitrarily separating ourselves in thought. Paradoxically, we attempt to attain something in order to realize there is nothing to attain (in the way we have conceptualized it) and begin to feel the truth of it for ourselves.  Zazen helps us remember the truth of who and what we are.

We embody this understanding, always coming back to the present and caring for this reality. This is the beauty, completeness, and blossoming forth of our own lives.