Discursive Thoughts Ramble Through My Mind

"Accepting that one could be wrong, and that one could also be right - simultaneously - would be the Zen way to go, I think. Master Dogen's admonition in Fukanzazengi to 'stop the functions of the mind' by setting aside all thoughts of good and evil, right or wrong, is of course intended to be followed while on the cushion, where it is actually doable. But it is difficult to apply when off the cushion, in the hurly-burly of everyday life. It becomes nearly impossible during times of interpersonal conflict."

- Taiun Michael Elliston

Sensei Elliston is one who has seen more than his fair share of interpersonal conflict lately, so I listen when he has something to say on this matter. At a member of the Atlanta Zen Center, I get a weekly email update of upcoming events in the sangha, and some of the emails contain short essays from sensei and some do not. This week's did, and here's some of what he had to say, this week starting with the implicit assumptions of what Zen meditation even is:

"What is it that we think we know for sure, when we enter into Zen meditation? Even to say that one enters into Zen meditation contains a lot of unspoken assumptions. It asserts the familiar and classical fallacy that there is a person who is doing the zazen. It suggests that the time, causes and conditions before we sit in zazen are separate and apart from those when we are sitting. It assumes that there is something called Zen meditation that we can indeed enter into. It establishes that our meditation is not just meditation, but Zen meditation. It follows that there is something called Zen meditation that is not the same as other meditations. It also implies that, Zen or not, there is actually something called meditation. All of these, while bearing a degree of conventional truth, are fallacies.

It can also be argued that the notions that there is not something called Zen meditation to enter into, or that it is the same as all other meditations, are also fallacies. It is easier for us to fall for some fallacies than for others. It is easy to believe (in the non-religious sense, or philosophically) that Zen meditation is different from other meditations, indeed superior. Why? Because it is the meditation milieu of OUR choice. It must be superior, if we devote our precious time and effort to it . . ."

A little later, he speaks of the stages of training and their associated vestments:

"One of the more subtle - one might say insidious - issues that comes up in formal training, with its implicit goal of dharma transmission, is what we might call the robe syndrome. The wagesa, rakusu, and okesa, as vestments, imply advancement through discrete stages of training on what psychology would refer to as a developmental model, the linear idea that we start at 'A,' proceed to 'B,' and eventually end up at 'Z.'

There is nothing intrinsically incorrect or harmful about such a model, until it begins to infect the don't-know mind, and we begin to think, on a subliminal level, that we do actually know. We may think, for example, or think we know, that the folks in the wagesas are not as advanced as those in the rakusus, let alone those in the okesas. And there is simply no touching the muckety-mucks in the brown or saffron robes.

In this instance of form over substance, the only-don't-know mind would suggest that we withhold any judgment. It may be that vestments actually do mean something; it may be that they don't. Certainly, they do not likely mean what we take them to mean."

The questions that vestments raise in the mind of both the wearer and the observer are part of the reason I choose not to wear robes or other formal attire in my Zen practice. I'm a westener and so I dress like a westener, not - I hope - like a westener who's trying to pretend that he's Asian. The traditional color of Zen clothing is black, so out of respect for the tradition I generally will wear black pants and a black shirt; long sleeves in the winter, short in the summer. Wearing black, in addition to being vaguely "cool," also has the added benefit of being slimming.

My karma has led me to receive the precepts and accept a rakusu as part of the ceremony. During the ceremony, I vowed to treat the garment with respect (as if it were my own eyes) and to wear it when appropriate (and to not wear it when it was inappropriate). I try to honor and maintain that vow, but now with the added wisdom of avoiding vows to wear any of the Emperor's other new clothes. Most of my dharma brothers and sisters haven't followed my example, and I'm fine with that - their choice is their choice, my choice is mine.

There have been times where I've participated in ceremonies or other formal affairs and have been asked to wear a robe as part of the liturgy, and I've agreed - although I've chosen not to wear such things as a matter of habit (no pun intended, sisters), I don't cling dogmatically to my decision. There's no reason to be difficult about such things.

In Shobogenzo Zuimonki, Master Dogen instructs, "If you gradually abandon egocentric mind and follow the sayings of your teacher, you will progress. If you argue back, pretending to know the truth and remain unable to give up certain things and continue to cling to your own preferences, you will sink lower and lower" (Book 1, Chapter 4).

"Egocentric mind" is a translation of goga-no-shin (the mind of ego). In the Gaduka-Yojinshu (Points to Watch in Practicing the Way), Dogen said, "Truly, when you see impermanence, egocentric mind does not arise."

The Indian patriarch Nagarjuna once said that bodhi-mind is the mind that solely sees the impermanence of this world of constant appearance and disappearance.

If, as Nararjuna says, the mind of wisdom (bodhi) is what arises when one sees impermanence and, as Dogen says, the mind of ego is what does not arise, then wisdom is the absence of egocentricity. Put more practically, clinging to what we know, or what we think we know, is what keeps us from wisdom, from actually knowing. It's better to not know.

Perhaps, and it's still unseasonably hot outside.