I've stopped caring about "enlightenment"

I guess I'm trying to make a point here, especially in my last post, above.

I think that paying attention is good, that sitting and noticing what is going on is good too. These are both good and helpful.

However, I'm wondering if it's not until the watcher, not until the meditating brain/entity develops the ability to see with the quality of objective, disembeded continuity that I'm talking about -- it's not until this starts to happen -- that a signifcant and actually revolutionary insight/effect occurs.

And, this is what I mean by changing the brain. I don't know if the organic brain itself actually changes. I just mean there is a change in the watcher and its fundamental relationship to objects and its sense of self itself.

I'm not saying anything new here (that is clear I hope). I'm just saying it in my own way from my own life and from my own corner of experience.

Mike I think your comments about Zen/Vipassana are entirely sensible.

Now, it is my belief that I keep repeating over and over on various forums (with so far no agreement or really any comments) that zazen and, especially formal zen training in long term seshins will produce this effect with the right persons at the right time -- just look at a sesshin schedule and then imagine sitting completely still with just the right posture from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. along with kinhin, orioki eating, etc for three, five, seven or ten days in a row and tell me it wouldn't produce the kind of continuity of momentum and attention I'm talking about. (as long as the practitioner is sincerely praticing)
This is sitting and watching what happens.

-michaelmonson

Just so, Mike.

Or at least, it can be so, if and only if by "sincerely practicing" we mean practicing correctly and with dedication. And I think that's what everyone in this group probably believes, too.

What is correct practice? It's easier to say what it's not: It's not trying to suppress thinking. It's not trying to eliminate feeling. It's not seeking for particular experiences. It's not guilt-tripping oneself over "not doing this right because I'm such a [pick your epithet]."

How can there be so much incorrect practice when zazen is so simple? Ahh, yes, zazen is simple, but it is not easy. People often bring so many unexamined preconcepts about "what Zen meditation is" to their practice, that in effect they do not practice at all. Instead, they simulate practice while actually doing something else.

Can prolonged practice time, such as in zazenkai (day long) and sesshin (many days) guarantee successful practice? There are no guarantees. That's the bad news. The good news is that prolonged practice, as well as regular daily practice, both serve to produce cumulative changes in the practitioner such that the odds are greatly increased that he or she will undergo Bodhi events. Quite often, those events happen some days or weeks after a sesshin has been completed.

How can there be so much incorrect practice when zazen is so simple? Ahh, yes, zazen is simple, but it is not easy. People often bring so many unexamined preconcepts about "what Zen meditation is" to their practice, that in effect they do not practice at all. Instead, they simulate practice while actually doing something else.



-mlatorra

I love this. Doesn't this really get to the heart of it in so many ways? Not just preconceptions about practice, but about who I am as a "practitioner", set the pattern for what I'll be doing when I "practice". And this critique could even be extended a step further in pointing out that not only does ineffective practice not lead to greater awakeness, but it can actually reinforce the very mechanisms of ignorance. One can actually practice ignorance, practice one's presuppositions, ingraining suffering-causing (or suffering-avoiding; same thing?) habits ever deeper through the dubious power of repetition.

Dogen's famous instructions used to frustrate me so much. He basically tells you how to sit, in what posture, how to line up your ears and your nose, etc. And, then to "think non-thinking."
That's it.

Now I kind of see it as an actual activity. One can't just get into the proper posture, start thinking non-thinking and be done with it. Getting into and staying in the correct posure takes constant awareness and adjustment, To not chase and reflect and analyze thoughts and images in the brain takes a constant adjustment, a constant vigilance, a continuous reminder. Doing all that at once is "sitting," is zazen.

Now, I don't know if anyone else has had this happen, but, at a certain point, "thinking non-thinking" in that posture creates an awareness of just when the posture is dialed in just right to facilitate the act of "non-thinking" so much so that it's hard to tell whether the posture is creating the proper state of mind or if the state of mind is creating the posture. My guess is that both are happening at the same time,

It's a wonderful thing and like I said will become to feel almost completely physical with the brain just another part of the body that is doing "sitting."

I also think that this "dialed-in" state is most likely a close approximation of or identical to the vipassana insight map state of "equanimity." If I am correct about this, then, once a pracitioner is in a close formal student-teacher relationship with a zen master and is doing study, and sesshins, and participating in dokusan (interview) sessions - the teacher must get a sense of the mind states the student is accessing in zazen and then guide and direct them either verbally or non-verbally (or by using koans) towards insights into the student's true nature.

Unfortunately, I also get the sense that there are people teaching zen in the US and elsewhere who really have no idea what zen practice is, whose own teachers had no idea what zen practice is, and who aren't actually qualifiied to guide anyone into any insight even though they have the shiny shaved head and the robes and the credentials.

edit: just to be clear, I don't think that "thinking non-thinking" means to supress thought, rather to just let thoughts and feelings and images just arise in their own natural fashion without analysis or reflection. How does one do that without "supressing thought" -- you just have to sit and figure it out, you have to "practice."

Yes, there seems to be a common emphasis in many traditions on this unity of body-energy-mind. It shows up in different stages of different maps, it seems to me. Remember Hokai Sobel's description of Vajrayana practice in the Hurricane Ranch dialogue? He describes is as body speech and mind unified through the methods of posture, mantra and visualization. You get to this point where what you think, say and do are facets of the same "thing", same totality-- instead of one or the other always "commenting" on the others. Instead of feeling like a mind that has a body and energy, suddenly it's a unified field, with no facet lording it over the rest.

"And I was thinking about koans last night, so it seems appropriate to ask: what do they bring into this mix? Is 'Mu' just another thing to pay attention to instead of vibraitons?" -Tomo



That's a good question, Tomo. I'm sure some people treat koans in this way. But, I don't think that is the intended function of koan practice.

In my limited understanding of Zen and the koan system (and I mean LIMITED), I think I know that it's about going beyond extremes. "Does a dog have Buddha Nature or not?" is black or white, yes or no. Buddhist theory says "yes", but the master says "mu!" ("No!") Why? It's not something you can think through. Using only words just results in "spinning" - disembodied, dead words that convey no real understanding. A correct answer must be a spontaneous expression, and must go beyond the extremes of yes or no. There are many koans, and they all seem to address some set of dualistic extremes that people have a tendency to fall into.

Koans can be used in hua-tou practice as well, which is a way of keeping the koan in mind to the point of having cultivated "great doubt" - which later drops away in a moment of profound clarity and understanding that goes beyond words. (This is a rather simplistic explanation of hua-tou practice.)

In other words, koans as tradition-specific instruments of practice and insight aren't just a mantra, or group of sensations to observe. There's more to it than that.

I'd love some feedback from the Zen folks in the group, to correct me if necessary.

Related -- kind of:

I know I zen teacher who has "dharma transmission" from Mel Weitzman and who has been studying since the late 60s.

She tells a story of the time she was going through all the steps and training leading up to her transmission ceremony.

At that time she had to go into the dokusan room with Mel I guess very regularly. If, when, she walked in, he could tell she wasn't completely "present," he'd send her out to try it again and again and again until he finally felt she was actually in the moment.

I used to read a lot about the students of Yatsunini and Soen and Maezumi, etc. (my spelling of course is off) who would sit in shesshin -- this was a school that was sort of a combination of soto and rinzai -- and just think of "mu" constantly and relentlessly with the goal of "satori" or kensho or whatever. There was a lot of encouragement, and use of the stick and reportedly people would lose their shit on a regular basis (this was the same lineage and some of the same teachers that Phillip Kapleau was involved with and wrote so famously about).

I've always assumed that this technique was designed to create, somehow, a complete and total letting go on the part of the student, a moment when they just gave up all pretenses, all defenses, and -- you know.

It's not a "mystical leap" -- it's just seeing what is there (or, rather, what isn't there). I am as certain of this as I can possibly be. One actually sees in minute detail step by step the development of the illusion of the solid self -- that's it.

But, ironically I guess, one can only see this by looking so intently, so closely, with such continuity instant to instant that their normal sense of self is temporarily lost in the looking.

I had an interesting (great) experience on Saturday. The local SFZC affiliated sangha has a "zen and recovery" group that meets one Saturday a month. It's in their "zendo" at a local Church of the Brethren (the one I belong to I am so proud) so the space looks very zen-like with zabutons and zafus along with walls, buddha and Avalokitesvara statues, incense, flowers, stuff like that. There are two zen priests in robes, etc.

It's kind of a cross between zen and AA. It's starts with a sitting, followed by a break with tea, then there is a "dharma talk" by a lay person followed by contributions on the topic by both priests and then a general discussion, followed by another sitting.

Nice.

The topic was "living with 'intention' versus living with an 'agenda.' "

The discussion was heartfelt and often very personal (which I love of course) sprinkled with a lot of dharma material. The basic gist was that an "intention" would be something like "to stay in the moment as much as possible" or to "be of service to others" while an "agenda" was more specific -- "to become enlightened," "to be more effective in life" or "to get a ... fill in the blank." a gaining, a getting of some self-centered thing. Make sense?

Living with intention of course was seen as the way to less suffering while having an agenda was a sure way to bump one's head against the wall because "the universe doesn't care what my agenda is."

Now alcoholics and addicts (like me) all seem to have a similar characteristic -- the normal human mistake of wanting stuff and trying to manipulate and control the world to their own vision, wants, needs, desires, and whims -- except for us it seems to be magnified to a greater degree. A lot of us seem to stubbornly stick to the idea that we can think our way into all our desires no matter how much evidence there is to the contrary. The simple wisdom is that this causes constant pain which creates the need for at least SOME relief -- thus alcohol, drugs, food, sex, other addicts,etc.

(this is part of the basic 12-step point of view on addiction and not necessarily the way that all experts look at the problem I think but I'm no expert of course)

So, in a way, the problem for addicts (the truth of suffering and the cause of suffering) is the same problem that all humans have. So, zen and/or dharma is a good fit for people in 12-step recovery and I'm finding there are a lot of great books and resources on this topic.

At one point in the discussion -- I said something like "well, if one truly believed in the characteristic of no self, which I do by the way, that the 'self' is entirely a fiction, then certainly our agenda will always be a fiction as well, right? and, will always lead us to suffering and bring us into conflict with what is actually going on in the universe." and on and on.

To my great self-centered pleasure there seemed to be a consensus in the group that I'd said something succinct and important and that seemed to bring the conversation to a more clear place (I am suitably embarassed by the pleasure I'm getting for saying something that was helpful and that seemed 'smart' )

Anyway, I am greatful for the vipassana emphasis on the characteristics that I don't think is as predominate in zen circles (they do talk about them a lot don't get me wrong but still it's just not as emphasized as a key to awakening) and I wondered how many of the other people there -- especially the priests -- had more than an intellectual understanding of any of the three C's. It's not something one can really ask I don't think without seeming rude I guess.

However, I am really happy to be able to go to this group since for once it doesn't conflict with my work or my commute. I love to meditate and I especially love to meditate WITH other people -- something I rarely get a chance to do.

Perhaps "mystical" sounded somewhat derogatory. "Counterintuitive" might be more apt. But the point is that something unexpected and unteachable supposedly happens (and I say "supposedly" not to knock it but to merely underscore that I cannot speak first-hand about it), and crossing this threshold is pivotal to the development, and advancement, of our practice.
I mention this because of a comment Mike made related to stream entry being a big deal for many vipassana practitioners, and I am not sure that that deal is unreasonably big. It is a really large transition if the effect is to "get" the "illusion of the solid self", and I still care, a whole lot, about that.

-tomo

Yes, after much inner debate, I think my series of posts above show that I do still think that "getting" the three C's is a big deal and does change things. (how exactly and whether positive or negative or both or neither is up for much debate of course).

"And
I was thinking about koans last night, so it seems appropriate to ask:
what do they bring into this mix? Is 'Mu' just another thing to pay
attention to instead of vibraitons?" -Tomo



"That's
a good question, Tomo. I'm sure some people treat koans in this way.
But, I don't think that is the intended function of koan practice.

In
my limited understanding of Zen and the koan system (and I mean
LIMITED), I think I know that it's about going beyond extremes. "Does a
dog have Buddha Nature or not?" is black or white, yes or no. Buddhist
theory says "yes", but the master says "mu!" ("No!") Why? It's not
something you can think through. Using only words just results in
"spinning" - disembodied, dead words that convey no real understanding. A
correct answer must be a spontaneous expression, and must go beyond the
extremes of yes or no. There are many koans, and they all seem to
address some set of dualistic extremes that people have a tendency to
fall into.

Koans
can be used in hua-tou practice as well, which is a way of keeping the
koan in mind to the point of having cultivated "great doubt" - which
later drops away in a moment of profound clarity and understanding that
goes beyond words. (This is a rather simplistic explanation of hua-tou
practice.)

In
other words, koans as tradition-specific instruments of practice and
insight aren't just a mantra, or group of sensations to observe. There's
more to it than that." Jackson

With the stipulation that I don't qualify as anything more than a Zen-curious practitioner [Although I spent a couple of years sitting regularly with John Tarrant Roshi's group; for a good taste of his approach to Koan work, see http://www.zenosaurus.blogspot.com/ ]-- perhaps my experience has left me with something useful to say. It appears to me that there is a strong family resemblance between koans, hua-tou, and the Advaita practice of inquiry. All are the practice of really bringing the attention to bear on a question that doesn't admit of a discursive, logical, conceptual answer. Fruitful practice seems to produce a state of fertile consternation, of 'don't-know mind.' This can be perceived as ecstatic freedom from one's former bondage to the 'known knowns and the known unknowns.' It can equally be experienced as being in free-fall from the proverbial top of the 100-foot pole.

This state is radically different from any expectation that one might have about spirituality, enlightenment, or 'oneself' or 'reality', for that matter. I think 'the 3 C's' and 'non-self' are a kind of Cliff Notes description; the downside of these formulations is that they seem too much like the sort of conceptual 'right answers' that good koan work undermines.

An amusing aside is that there are two versions to 'Mu'-- the negative version best known; and then the other one, where the answer is affirmative. Koans are definitely Coyote Medicine.

And, reading what Jackson wrote above about 'going beyond extremes', it occurs to me that maybe Nagarjuna is the granddaddy of all koans, with his 'neither is, nor is not, nor both, nor neither.'

My take on the original point is this: I think a lot of caring about enlightenment is slightly misplaced. Because, at least in my practice, the end aim of practice is not enlightenment. It's the relief of all suffering. It turns out that enlightenment is the ultimate gate that we walk through to release ourselves of all suffering, because suffering arises from ignorance; but if enlightenment didn't relieve dukkha, we wouldn't aim for it.

So obviously enlightenment is a pretty good thing. This is not the Dark Side of the Force we're talking about here. But I think too much of a focus on enlightenment can be a setback, because if enlightenment and insight become the ultimate ends, rather than the highest means we can use to achieve our goals, they can easily become mechanisms of self-view and becoming. In other words, enlightenment can be a place of abiding—a lofty one, but still not nibbana. And the tighter and more intensely one focuses on that place of abiding—that locus of self-view—the more the question of suffering slips out the corner of the eye.

Again, this only goes for my own practice. I am not nearly well-enough acquainted with the many practices followed here to presume to criticize any of them.

I was going to post about that article,too. It seems technique is vital in the beginning. I don't know anyone personally who could get started without technique (whatever one) to lean on. Lean on darn heavily, even. It seems to matter a lot for a while, then eventually it doesn't. Maybe there are cases where this isn't true?

I was going to post about that article,too. It seems technique is vital in the beginning. I don't know anyone personally who could get started without technique (whatever one) to lean on. Lean on darn heavily, even. It seems to matter a lot for a while, then eventually it doesn't. Maybe there are cases where this isn't true?


-ona

On the other end of the spectrum, perhaps, another possibility (folding in Tomo's metaphor as well): one frequently has peak moments, which arise through no obvious technique, which demonstrate the authenticity of the liberated state-- thoughts think themselves, walking walks, talking talks, playing guitar plays guitar-- without the training wheels of conventional identity OR meditation technique. But while one has regular glimpses of such "post-graduate" level freedom, one is generally a mental-emotional "self" looking out through one's body reacting to one's own thought movements like a stoned cat jumping at hallucinatory mice. Eventually one tires of this and decides, insulting to ego as it may be ( since 'I" "know" "it" already), to go back to kindergarten, to put some training wheels on, to learn the "how" of the balanced freedom rather than leaving it to chance-- to unlearn the reliance on the unwieldy baroque training wheels of conventional identity, which always seem to require new and more convoluted mechanisms, via the skillful means of the minimalist training wheels of practice, which helpfully dismantle themselves as you learn.

Or maybe an experience like this isn't so unusual-- I've always wondered why anyone would bother with practice if they hadn't already had some definite profound glimpses of awakening.

"I've always wondered why anyone would bother with practice if they
hadn't already had some definite profound glimpses of awakening."

Everyone I know who practices had some sense, either just as a constant nagging longing, that they were missing something, that there was something more profound than what they experienced on a day to day basis. Or they had some kind of crisis, death related often, that pushed them to practice.

That said, I know of people - and to some extent that includes myself - who really had only the vaguest notion of enlightenment, and started a meditation practice for a more general spiritual fulfillment (type A above) or to deal with a crisis (type B above, often expressed as dealing with stress), and only later realized that it could go deeper than that.

I recalled only recently a certain place in the woods I used to go as a young child, to sit alone in the sun on a rock overlooking a pond and find a kind of peace, away from the stresses of the household. In that looking back I realized the sense of peace and safety I had there, a sort of magickal sense of being part of everything in that secret place by the pond, was faint glimpse of awakening.

ps - I like the training wheels metaphor!

Just came across this personal account of a guy going from film buff to Buddhist chaplain - the fear of death that led him to start his practice. Relevant to our above discussion:

http://www.inquiringmind.com/Articles/GrowingIntoPractice.html

In my case, I definitely had never experienced any degree of awakening before I began my practice. The indirect cause was a feeling, that's been with me ever since I can remember, that life as we know it is entropic; that the energy and suffering we put into just going through the days is necessarily going to be greater than whatever it is we get out of that energy and suffering. The direct cause was feeling myself begin to slip into more and more unskillful habits, especially with regards to money and buying things—that I'm still contending with right now. The specific impetus for my practice was a desire to right myself and my habits and try and pull out a little bit of the cycle of material attachment that consumerism creates. I don't even know what awakening feels like.

@Zach and Ona--Thanks for sharing your answers to my pseudo-rhetorical question and for sharing the article, Ona!

I can relate to all of the scenarios mentioned: Ngak'chang Rinpoche speaks of 'our beginningless enlightenment sparkling through' our rote, conditioned, habitual mode of living and perceiving. My own experience is that some of the 'sparks' are tiny-- a little flare goes off reading or hearing of someone's epiphany-- and evanescent, forgotten before day's end. Some of the sparks are more like a supernova exploding into view-- my mother's sudden and unanticipated death 25 years ago, then some days later a whole-being conviction that 'all is well, and all manner of thing is well'; that it was Light into which she had vanished, going Home from her hard times here.

At some point, I began to realize that I was encountering the sparks with some frequency, like following a path of moonstones through a midnight woods. I stopped insisting on the story 'I don't know what I'm doing; if illumination sufficient to make a real difference is possible for someone else, somewhere else, in the past or future-- it's not for me, because I'm too.. [lazy, tired, preoccupied, wrong gender, ignorant, worldly, addicted, unsuccessful, obtuse, sick...]'

Having the story wear thin, the occasions of noticing what was and is, always so, unobscured by changing conditions-- have come to predominate.