Not Zen 53: On the Way

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On the Way

Many pilgrims travelled together on an old bus. They were on their way to build homes for the victims of a disaster. Among the travellers were two friends, one a student of the Way, another a student of Zen.

"How can you say everything is not an illusion?" asked the Zen devotee, arms around her knees in her bus seat by the window. "You admit that the physical world, samsara, is full of deception and is, at its base nature, transitory. Everything passes, in time."

"There is a great difference between being transitory and being illusory," said the Daoist, an older woman. "After all, would you say that this pilgrimage is an illusion? Would you call your good deeds an illusion?"

"Yes, I would," insisted her friend.

"Really? Then is love an illusion? Is our friendship?"

"You are asking the wrong questions." The Zen devotee shifted uneasily in her seat. "That is like asking if enlightenment is an illusion."

"Is enlightenment an illusion?"

"It makes no difference if enlightenment is an illusion or not."

Not Zen 52: How to Be Impatient

At the train station, a customer trembled with rage as he tried to get the flex return tickets he knew were available. The fellow behind the counter didn't understand how to make the transaction.

So the customer stood at the window for half an hour as he struggled to get the ticket man to understand and do what he wanted. He got frustrated. He shouted. Other ticket agents came over to calm the customer down. As the customer tried to explain to them, he saw a middle-aged woman walk up to the ticket window he had vacated.

"I need a flex return," she said.

"I don't know how to do that," said the man behind the counter, much as he had done with his earlier customer.

"What do you do when you're asked for unfamiliar transactions?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to look them up on this sheet." The young fellow waved a sheet of paper he'd tried to read while his earlier customer was shouting.

"Well, go ahead," said the woman.

"I don't read very well." He pointed to the lines on the chart and moved his lips as he struggled to understand.  In about two minutes, he found the flex return charge method.  The woman had not spoken a single word as he worked.

The first customer couldn't hear the entire exchange but he understood that the second patron was getting what she wanted.  After she was done, he approached her.

"How did you get him to do that?" He waved in the direction of the ticket desk.

"I explained what I wanted. I'm in a hurry too, you know. You'll have to walk with me if you want to talk."

"But he's stupid!" The man fell in beside her. "How did you get him to understand?"

"I saw a part of what happened to you. You showed contempt for his slowness and made him nervous. But I could tell he wanted to help."

"He kept dropping things! And he couldn't read!"

"He got flustered by your shouting. If you had remained calm and tried to see things from his perspective, you would have gotten your ticket in about two minutes, the way I did."

Not Zen 51: Mind or Body

"Teacher, I am ill today."  With cheeks flushed, the novice sat in his usual place.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the guru without looking at him.  "You may be excused from meditations and from your other chores."

"I do not wish to be excused, teacher.  I want to understand."  The student wiped his sweaty brow.  "Is the illness in my body or only in my mind?  Can I heal myself through force of will?"

"Zen teaches us that the body is an illusion.  Therefore, illness of the body is also an illusion."

The student took a long while to respond.  "But do you believe that really?"

"The Dao teaches us that the body is transitory and the mind also passes away.  Your illness will pass if you but rest a while."

"The Dao tells us to nap?"

"I did, too, but you weren't listening."

Not Zen 50: The Bird Watchers

John, a long-time student of religion went to visit his friend who had risen to the Dean of Academics at a rather young age. This friend, both pleased and concerned by John's lack of concern for worldly matters, offered to take him on a research expedition deep into an old, great forest.

"You'll love it," he said. "It's a fascinating place full of things you'll never see anywhere else. And our staff is impressive. Professor Whitt knows more about birds than anyone else you'll ever meet."

So the expedition traveled to the forest and John, as a manual laborer, accompanied  them. After they set up camp the first day, John noticed the elderly professor was missing. An inquiry lent him knowledge of the man's probable whereabouts and, hoping to learn from the professor's vast experience with birds, he followed. In a little while, he found the shelter where the old man had secluded himself.  John joined him. They sat in silence for a moment.

"What are you doing?" John whispered.

"Listening to the birds," said the professor.

"What do you hear?"

The professor replied that he had heard several types of birds. He mentioned them by name and went into detail about their distinctive songs. Right now, he said, he was listening to a mating call. The professor knew the difference between the territorial and the merely amorous, between a reassuring coo and wary squawk, between the sound of a hunter and a cry of alarm. This particular male bird was trying to attract a mate and the professor was waiting for a female to answer.

John stayed a while and listened. The professor seemed a bit agitated to have someone else nearby. So John left. A few yards down the trail back to camp, he came across the professor's wife. She was sitting on a blanket, reading. She smiled and nodded at John.

"Do you listen to birds, too?" he said.

"Only when I'm not reading," the old woman replied. Just then, the male bird cried out loudly. "Ah, poor thing."

"Poor thing? You mean because it has no mate?"

"No, because it's sick."

John listened. He couldn't tell. "How do you know? Do you know a lot about birds?"

She shook her head. "Oh no, I don't know anything. But listen and you'll hear it. It sounds different from the others of it's kind. It's much weaker."

They sat and listened for a while. Then the old woman smiled and went back to her book.

When John got back to camp, his friend asked him, "Well, what did you think of the professor?"

"He certainly knows a lot about birds," John allowed. "But I think his wife is enlightened."

Not Zen 49: Practice of Affection

A young man in a small town became engaged to an older woman. Everyone thought it would be an excellent match. But on the eve of their marriage, he called off the ceremony. Without consulting anyone, not even his closest friends, he left his home town and travelled to the nearest monastery.

His fiance knew that this had been something he'd thought about doing for several years, so she had an easy time tracking him. However, when she went to visit her lover, the monks would not allow her in.

She climbed the hill next to the compound and spotted her man meditating in the eastern courtyard. She hiked to the east wall. With the help of a pear tree, she scaled the wall and, unhurt by the drop on the other side, she strode to confront her lover.

His head was shaved and he wore a saffron robe. He seemed unsurprised by her presence. He did not call for the other monks. She sat and adopted a pose of meditation similar to his.

"Are you at peace?" she asked after a while.

"I think I am coming to inner peace, yes," he replied.

"Did we have happiness at home? I thought we did, the both of us."

"We did. Very much. But what is worldly happiness compared to eternal happiness?"

"It's nothing, of course. And what about love?"

"What about it? What is love compared to enlightenment?"

"They're teaching you nothing," she said sternly. "What is enlightenment without love? Aren't they joined? Shouldn't you know that?"

The young man had no reply. The next day, he asked his teacher this question about love and enlightenment. When he was not satisfied with the answer, he returned to his home town. He made apologies to his friends. Then he married his teacher, the woman who had followed him to the temple.

Not Zen 48: Doctor of Philosophy

A man lay on his deathbed, struck down by a fever. With his doctor and family around him, he complained about his pain and suffering. He expressed his regrets that he'd never spent time to become enlightened, although he'd always meant to devote himself more to religion.

“What has my life been about?” he wondered.

“We come into this world alone,” replied the doctor, who was a bit of a philosopher. “And alone we leave it. Between the entrance and the exit, we suffer hardships and cruelties, for such is the lot of a mortal life.”

“Is that all?”

“Nonsense,” said another voice. “You came into this world in good company. You're leaving it with friends and family all around. Doctors are idiots. That's why we have to die.”

“Yes, mother,” said the dying man. He laughed until he coughed.

Not Zen 47: Obvious Winner

On the hottest day of the summer, a swarm of sea lions arrived in the bay. They hadn't ventured this far north before but once they'd made themselves at home it didn't take long for them to discover the otters.

Great colonies of sea otters swarmed together in five rafts of hundreds of members each. The two larger rafts were mostly females.  The three smaller rafts consisted of males of various prestige, strength, and distance from the females. All of the otters, to their dismay, discovered that their large groups provided them no defense from the sea lions. They were easy prey.

Every day for weeks, the great predators swam up to the edges of the colonies and dragged otters to their deaths. Finally, a large contingent of otters decided they would prefer to swim north to the next bay rather than wait to be eaten by sea lions. The elders among them knew that the trip north would cross a hard stretch of ocean where they would be victims of shark attacks, hunts by orcas, and tests with other dangerous animals. Only the toughest otters would survive.

"Should we permit pups to travel?" asked one of the leaders.

"How can we not?" said an elder. "What else would they do?  Stay here to be eaten?"

"Only the best can make it." She nodded to a new male. He was large and tough for his age. "Not all of them, either, just a few like this."

"You're wrong about that one," said the elder. "He fights with his playmates."

"He wins."

"No, he simply doesn't learn. It's otters like that one, over there, who will be with us in the end."

She gestured to a young, ordinary male. But the leader could see no difference between him and many other undersized children.

"I can't imagine why you think that," she snorted.

The long journey began the next day. Most of the otters survived the swim into the open ocean. Sharks took their share of the travelers but not in great numbers. The real hardship was the lack of food. There were few shellfish to be had even near the coast. Pups suffered the worst. They could not dive to the depths for crabs or other suitable game. They were reduced to scavenging beaches for the tiniest of mussels. In desperation, they began eating the sea urchins available.

To get at the sea urchins, the pups had to learn to bite through the undersides, where the spines were shortest. They had to deal with rays and starfish along the shore, too, competitors for the soft contents inside the urchins' protective, poisonous shells. Many pups starved, fell sick from the urchins, or dropped behind when they'd grown too weak to continue.

At last, the pilgrimage reached its destination. The lead otters discovered a bay with no kelp forest but with sufficient food to survive. By that time, only a dozen pups were left.

"You see," said the elder to the lead female. "The pup you thought was too small and ordinary is still with us."

"I don't know why," said the leader. "The strong one went missing, too. How did you know?"

"Bigger and stronger and smarter are good. When a battle is otherwise equal, an advantage in one area determines the winner. But battles are never equal. And this was not a short struggle. This was a long one."

"So how did you know that ordinary-seeming fellow would win?"

"I could see that it never occurred to him to stop trying.  When others failed, they sulked. He failed, revised his approach, and tried again. He had many quick failures and kept improving."

"That's all?"

"It served him well when others starved.  Here is something that may seem odd to you because you are young.  Winners in any contest are not usually the best. Instead, they are the ones who learn the most from their failures. Over time, that is how all of life is won."

Not Zen 46: Mutual Dependence

A school teacher sat behind his desk in the warm, afternoon sun. His students had left for the day.

"Sit in any chair, roshi," said the teacher to the elderly woman who entered. She was the matron who had once shown him the ways of Daoism and Zen. He rose and bowed his head to her.

His former mentor did not often have the chance to visit. Her health was bad. Even when she could make it to the school, she usually spent considerable time criticizing the way things were done in her absence.

She eyed the classroom furnishings and remained standing. Her right hand leaned heavily on the knob of her cane.

"Who made this chair?" she asked suspiciously. She banged the closest one with her stick.

"You did."

"Did I?" There was a twinkle in her eye. She seemed pleased. "Is this a trick? I was never a carpenter. Don't you think I would remember?"

"But you do remember, roshi. You are not so old as that. You recall that things derive their nature by mutual dependence. They are nothing by themselves. A wooden shape without anyone to sit in it is nothing."

"So I made the chair?"

"By your need, you did. Absolutely."

"This body is tired." Gratefully, she lowered herself into the seat. "I'm glad to make a chair for it."

Not Zen 45: Accepting Promotion

In the woodlands, near a ridgeline, lived a grey wolf. She was the spiritual leader of her pack. Over the years, she had promoted two male wolves in their turns to the role of hunt leader. Now, with the current hunt leader injured by an elk, she deemed it time again to decide on the right male.

It was a cold morning and her breath, warm from the recent meal, billowed as she walked and surveyed the pack. Two of her males were not fully grown and to her mind not eligible. Others weren't strong enough. One was particularly unkempt. That left her four good candidates to inspect.

She made her way to the strongest male, a smooth-furred fellow who had striven for years to take the lead role. He had fought a bit too often with the old hunt leader but he also knew when to back down. He had never been hurt in a fight or in a hunt. He was usually second or third to the food. He didn't share with the cubs, which was unfortunate, but on the other hand he rarely tormented them.

“Perhaps your time has come,” she said as she drew nose-to-nose with him.  “The pack needs someone in front. Can you lead?”

“Oh, mistress,” he simpered, full of false modesty. He sat back and cleaned his paws for a moment as he considered his reply. “I am not worthy of such a promotion.”

“Right,” she said. She tried to picture him doing the extra work. It was hard.  He had never taken a serious risk. Could she let the pack endure a leader who hesitated to accept her offer? “Never mind. I'll find someone ready.”

She turned to her left and went off to the next male.

Not Zen 44: You're Perfect

"Roshi, are you enlightened?" the student questioned her teacher as he sat in contemplation before class.

"You've come a long way in your studies," said the roshi. He put down his book. "You know, of course, that I am supposed to say 'mu' and undo that question. For you, however, because I think you will understand, I say yes. All people can reach enlightenment in their lifetimes and they should. It is not so hard. Just try and don't try."

The student was not excited by this idea because she had long suspected this was the case. Also, she had observed the calmness and loving manner of her guru towards everyone in all situations. She saw him try and not try, both together, in every moment.

"I know that you let go of desires," she said. "It's obvious. But what did that feel like? What happened after you did that?"

The guru closed his eyes for a moment.

"It was a morning years ago when I let go of all my desires. Of course, it came after a few years of practicing and contemplating the nature of those desires. I tested letting them go. Then I let them go."

The student closed her eyes.

"A friend approached me as I sat," continued the roshi, "much as I sit now. I felt no separation between him and myself. We were aspects of the same, whole being. We were part of existence. I smiled at my friend and he studied me for a moment. Then he acted as he always did. We parted with a joke and a laugh. We were completely as we should be."

The student smiled. She found herself studying the smile of her teacher.

“Later that day, I met my lover and felt the same lack of separation. She and I were part of the whole of existence, exactly as we should be, and my emotions were as pure and unstained by argument or jealousy as if I were made of fresh snow. My love for her was clear. The world was fresh. It is always fresh, of course, but I did not always realize it, and did not always accept its beauty.”

“Am I as I should be?” asked the student.

“You are perfect,” said the roshi.