176: Connecting the Dots Part 3

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**Zen in Our Time**
Time is running out
thus the sense of urgency —
all there is — is time.

In this third installment of my "DharmaByte" column and "UnMind" podcast, exploring the general subject of Zen in our Times, we turn to the last of three suggested topics from Hokai Jeff Harper, Halifax-based publisher of the STO newsletter:

• To everything there is a season

• The wax and wane of householder zazen practice

• What we are feeling right now IS impermanence manifesting itself

Hokai somehow managed, perhaps unintentionally, to progressively home in on the central experience of Zen on three levels. Starting with the most universal sphere of our experience on Earth, the seasonality that is an effect of orbiting the sun for approximately 365 rotations of the planet; then down to the social sphere of our practice as householders; and finally into the realm of the intimate, up-close-and-personal sphere of consciousness itself. What I call the "singularity of Zen."

As I mentioned in the last segment, we often seem to labor under a misconception that because we follow the lifestyle of householders, we cannot hope to penetrate to the fundamental meaning of the teachings of Buddhism. But Hokai's assertion puts the lie to this assumption.

If the Dharma is simply pointing at the present reality that we are experiencing, lifestyle choices cannot possibly have a determinative or dispositive, causal relationship in terms of coming to realization of our buddha mind. What we are feeling now is impermanence manifesting itself, to quote the above quote. Not only what we are feeling now, but what we are seeing and hearing, smelling and tasting, as well as what we are thinking. Or reading, if you are reading this rather than listening to the podcast version.

You might quibble with Hokai's construction - "impermanence manifesting itself" - as it suggests that "impermanence" is some sort of independent force capable of manifesting itself, rather than an attribute of the changing nature of the universe. But let's not let mere semantics distract from the message. We are witnessing the "endless, unremitting, unnamable, unthinkable buddha-dharma," as Master Dogen expressed it; and we bear witness to IT mainly through the dynamic of change, or impermanence. Otherwise, we would not register seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, or even thinking, at all. If nothing were changing, there could be no awareness of it.

As I mentioned in the segment on householder practice, renunciation in Zen is a matter of seeing through the delusional aspect of living, not a matter of lifestyle. Discernment in Zen is like Sri Ramakrishna's analogy that, like a swan, we need to be able to drink milk mixed with water, and drink only the milk. Or as Master Tozan analogized:

A silver bowl filled with snow
A heron hidden in the moon
Taken as similar, they are not the same
Not distinguished, their places are known

So this refined awareness of the nondual nature of reality, termed "emptiness," as opposed to "form" or appearance, is so close to ordinary reality, or perceptual duality, that it is nearly indistinguishable — like white snow in a silver bowl, or a white heron and the full moon — white on white.

Buddha taught that the discriminating mind imposes a "false stillness" on reality, tamping down the uninhibited flow of sensory data to a dull roar. This enables us to maintain our balance and negotiate a dynamic, 4-dimensional spacetime environment.

This is part of the natural process of "individuation" that sets in once we are born, and culminates in the conception of the independent self, which is a fundamental category error, according to Buddhism. The original alienation that is our fall from grace.

It is not that Buddhism claims there is no self whatever. There is a constructed self, and there is a true self, according to this model. The prevalent perception of separation as an incarnated being is not entirely delusional. But it is incomplete — reification of a separate self ignores the rest of the story, the fact that all beings are interconnected, co-arisen and co-dependent. The Twelvefold Chain of Interdependent Arising, attributed to Shakyamuni, parses this coming-of-age story, slicing and dicing stages of development finely, like an Italian chef shaving garlic with a razorblade.

This is similar to Master Dogen's fine discernment of reality — from a perspective uniting space, or existence, and time — as articulated in Uji—Being-Time, explored in some detail in a prior podcast. What he referred to as the "fine mind of Nirvana," or the "subtle mind of Nirvana." Master Sengcan, third Chinese patriarch after Bodhidharma and his successor Huike, points to something similar in Hsinhsinming—Trust in Mind:

In this world of Suchness there is neither self nor other-than-self
To come into harmony with this reality
Just simply say when doubt arises: "not two"
In this "not two" nothing is separate nothing is excluded
No matter when or where Enlightenment means entering this truth
And this truth is beyond extension or diminution in time or space
In it a single thought is ten thousand years

Believing in the fundamental bifurcation of consciousness into self-and-other, body versus mind — the "Cartesian error" — is resolved in realizing that "you can't have one without the other," or as the more contemporary trope would have it, "both things can be true at the same time." "Neither-self-nor-other-than-self" indicates the True Self of Buddhism, undivided from the very beginning. "Not-two" is the mantra we conjure whenever any doubt about this arises. At the risk of repeating myself — with the caveat that these teachings bear repetition, especially in changing contexts — the last stanza returns us to the singularity of Zen:

No matter when or where
Enlightenment means entering this truth
And this truth is beyond extension or diminution in time or space
In it a single thought is ten thousand years

The last line of which Matsuoka-roshi would encapsulate as "The eternal moment."

So it all comes down to this. Like a fish-trap, reality ensnares us in its wide reach, and as we pursue our own realization — which, after all, is, or should be, our birthright — we find the trap narrowing again and again, until there is no escape, no turning back; like the exhausted swimmer at the halfway point, it is just as far, and equally risky, to try to make it back safely to shore as it is to continue swimming to the island.

If we persevere, finally finding ourselves on the "other shore," we can see clearly that we have been seeing things all wrong, all along. There never has been a separate self to embody, let alone to defend against all comers, let alone any existential annihilation. In the not-two nonduality of Zen's reality, it was all like a bad dream, one that we essentially made up — with a little help from our friends and family, of course, not to mention the entire world of benighted people who fear death and, consequently, life.

This is not to insist that everyone else is wrong about everything, and that only I and my like-minded friends from the enchanted land of Zen have the inside track. In one sense, it must be true that everyone has a hunch about this — an inkling that something is missing — and that that something is worth knowing. Otherwise we would probably all commit mass suicide, in despair. Which is exactly what it looks like we are doing, with an assist from the stewards, elected or not, of our commonweal. Can anyone say "lemmings"?

But Buddhism never seemed to show much concern about the survival of the species. Celibacy is the quickest way to bring down the curtain on humanity - simply not giving birth to the next generation. Of course, the coterie of those who abjure bearing children is not likely to ever encompass a majority of the population, so that kind of extinction is not going to happen.

No, it is more likely that Mother Nature's balancing act will bring about the demise of humanity owing to our disruption of her sphere of influence, so carefully nurtured to bring the miracle of life to the planet in the first place, as the goddess Gaia:

In Greek mythology, Gaia is the personification of the Earth and a primordial goddess, one of the first deities to emerge from Chaos. She is often referred to as Mother Earth and is considered the mother of all life.

And life itself is "fleeting as an arrow" according to Buddha. What we are feeling in the present is this fleeting moment, our life passing before our very eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind in a vast network of frequencies in polyrhythmic synchrony. Our heartbeat is our metronome, the rise and fall of the breathing our connection to the thin atmospheric blanket embracing the earth. On a personal basis, there is no time to waste in foolish pursuits, as the sage Jianzhi Sengcan reminds us in Hsinhsinming:

Waste no time in doubts and arguments that have nothing to do with this

A century later, Master Sekito Kisen says it another way, in Sandokai:

I respectfully urge you who study the Mystery
do not pass your days and nights in vain

So Hokai does us a great service to remind us of the evanescence of spacetime in the personal realm, embedded in our social context as householders, surrounded by the world of Nature both nurturing and threatening us, finally floating in the constancy of the universal. Let Tozan Ryokai have the last word on it, after yet another century, from his Hokyo Zammai:

Within causes and conditions time and season it is serene and illuminating 
So minute it enters where there is no gap so vast it transcends dimension
A hairsbreadth deviation and you are out of tune

It seems that all three of the great Ch'an masters are speaking with one voice, urging us to pay attention. There is not so much to their Buddhism after all, as one sage commented upon the occasion of his insight.

So Hokai's assertion that what we are feeling right now IS impermanence manifesting itself is subject to Master Dogen's repeat comment: "All things are like this." Not only what we are feeling right now — but what we are seeing and hearing, smelling and tasting and yes, even what we are thinking right now — is, in one sense, impermanence.

It is not only in front of your face, it is also behind your face, penetrating your hearing with no boundary, in and out through your nose and mouth (and other orifices), and enveloping your body outside and inside, clean and clear through your original mind. Tozan says, with stunning nonchalance, earlier in the poem:

You are not IT — but in truth IT is you

Buddha is attributed with saying something like — that there is impermanence means that there is permanence. And his followers were overjoyed to hear that. What made them so happy? Again recalling Hsinhsinming—Trust in Mind: