Essay Seven - Politics - Written during the 2010 midterm elections in America, a deep, lucid, sane look into the politics of the Zen hierarchies, and politics in general.
Essay Seven - Politics - Written during the 2010 midterm elections in America, a deep, lucid, sane look into the politics of the Zen hierarchies, and politics in general.
Essay Seven - Politics - Written during the 2010 midterm elections in America, a deep, lucid, sane look into the politics of the Zen hierarchies, and politics in general.
POLITICS MIDTERM ELECTIONS IN AMERICA T U M U L T A N D G R E E D A N D AV I R I C E A N D H O P E AND A LOOK INTO THE POLITICS OF THE ZEN HIERARCHY
S ociety is governed by a flawed system that can’t be
fixed, as we are not in the position to do otherwise. Obvious, as the same results play out everywhere. Dictators become corrupt, people take advantage, and take as much as they can. In The Rebel – An Essay on Man in Revolt, Camus notes, “… as for the Republic, it stands alone, and morality was supposed to exist without benefit of the commandments.” The idea of the Republic depends on an enlightened society. We just aren’t there yet. A peek inside any religious institution would show the same governing principles: the dictator, corrupt; the brown–nose politics — all of it. If these are our greatest minds, then we have a long way to go. And they are inextrica- bly linked, government and religion — whatever is said. The view we have of ourselves as a society: the personality, quality of life, development of wisdom, compassion — aren’t these things necessary for a Republic to function? Since there are no commandments written into law, thankfully, it’s up to the in- dividual. I think we should all read more, and take up the practice of meditation, if you haven’t already. That’s where the revolu- tion takes place, not by voting for another version of the same banality. It’s impossible to be agreeable to the majority without wa- tering down politics until it’s hardly effective, nearly invisible. What, other than paying taxes and saying hello to the nice of- ficer, is relevant to your daily goings on? To be liberated, free, is our birthright. It can’t be manufactured, but it does require a great deal of work, all of it internal. How many tormented souls on this earth! There’s your political environment, the fabric of society. If we would teach, from the beginning, how to utilize the brain, how to process emotions — to become the observer… it isn’t in our dialogue. We can’t digest what we’ve done because we don’t have the tools for it, or the knowledge. How does the brain work, when properly managed? What about emotions in the skilled grasp of an adept? You won’t see any of these running for office, unfortunately. The work to control others is the hallmark of an immature psyche, a lack of trust. It points to the restless desire and endless need of a soul that has not yet described itself, and so is unstable. This in- stability can only be remedied internally, through understand- ing the machine. Ironically, this deep wisdom, when acquired, gives direct insight into the complex personages we’re sur- rounded by, and so the control of them becomes ubiquitous. That’s how I see it, the way civilization will turn, eventually. Too bad we aren’t born with an innate wisdom, instead pro- grammed by our environment, and what a poor job we’re do- ing in that regard! It’s a wonder we aren’t surrounded by homi- cidal maniacs. But the soul is inherently good, the wellspring of consciousness dazzling and impeccable. In a Zen hierarchy, the founder, invariably from Asia, car- ries the teaching line of previous Zen masters stretching all the way back to the Buddha. Each Zen master appoints a new suc- cessor, or several, to continue the line — in the society what amounts to royalty, those that receive transmission and what we have today, the 2nd generation who are trying to receive it. All of the teaching lines were brought over to the West in the last 50 years. The institutions were built up quickly, many teachers and Zen masters appointed, and nearly all the found- ers gone. Inexplicably, there are very few Asian Zen masters in the world today. We had one shot at it. We have to make the best of it. What we’re grappling with is a number of half– formed, half–baked Zen worthies repeating the words of their founders, struggling to keep their communities afloat, often forced to work for a living, to raise families — obviously frag- mented. No time for long retreats or for just being Zen mas- ters. The next tier, the Zen monk, is ill–adapted to Western ma- terialism. It’s difficult for the communities to support them, as they usually don’t work. Health insurance? Really you need to be independently wealthy to pull this off, or else live in a monastery in a Buddhist country. If the monastic community requires you to work an ordinary job, then it’s little more than a change of clothes. To add to this, there are no monastic role models in our culture, and, personally, I find it abject to adopt another one. As a result there are few monastics, and much fewer lay practitioners now that the founders have gone. The dynamism here isn’t toward attaining enlightenment or pushing toward long retreats, but more of community building, indoctrination. Some fear that they will become re- ligious organizations with no enlightened masters at all — or completely disappear. The teaching devices aren’t the problem. Zen master Seung Sahn would often say, “I can teach you ev- erything you need to know about Buddhism in ten minutes.” You don’t need a large amount of data for this, just an undying need to penetrate this great matter. If you depend on the com- munities for your practice, your practice takes on the tenor of the institution. The same problem with all religions — like our political arena, they’re watered down, impersonal, ultimately unsatisfying — and the human mind is not one to remain in a bland state, so the inevitable climb up the ladder by taking precepts, passing koans, becoming firmly established with the teaching society. After a certain point, if there’s no forward movement — if the candidate doesn’t mesh with the teachers, isn’t wealthy enough to be a monastic, has no more easy goals to acquire, then he/she either falls from the ranks or becomes a potted plant. These dynamics don’t make for an enlightened society. I fear it isn’t possible, where we are today. If this is so, then no need to waste time looking to these communities to provide the whole experience. They are like libraries of human books who have information that can’t be recorded otherwise. Politics come into play when the adept has made some headway, not with the work of meditation (how to gauge it?), but the good graces of a lineage holder. The same brown–nose techniques apply here as anywhere, for the new appointments aren’t based on a quiet reserve, independence, holding no con- cern for your own affairs, having no self–nature — the very qualities required for attaining the work of Zen. If you want the title, then you have to go for it. No one’s going to chase you down and hand you a Zen stick. It may have been that way with the founder, who needed to set up a community very quickly, from nothing. But once you give a human being power over another — madness. This has nothing to do with a saint; saints are incorruptible — but a normal human still possessing an ego, in the sense that he/she hasn’t made the transition from caring only about their own affairs to caring about others. The power comes not only from the lineage, but the se- cret, the thing you must get that only he/she possesses. The joke of it is that they have nothing. Anything you attain is from your own sweat and blood — to the amount, the degree. But the institution must live, and it survives by these methods, by instilling hope in successive generations, that they may some- day wear the gold brocade, that they may know the secret. How many lives wasted, entangled in this! I know many adepts who received a title, and there reached a plateau, never to rise further. In fact, it could be said that their practice degraded substantially. It’s as if the practice becomes grounded by position, glamour, whatever that is. What’s the alternative? Use them as you would a library. Don’t buy the book. Develop your own practice life, and, if you really want to finish this great matter, start doing long retreats, both with a group and on your own. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel. These institutions have a lot to offer, but I can’t help feeling the same sort of unease as I watch the various factions form in American politics today. Don’t drink the Kool–Aid. There’s no utopian world available. No one is right. Some say the best we can hope for is gridlock, so nothing gets done at all. How much government do you need? *** The sidewalk is hot today, the day after the midterm elec- tions. The TV was on all night, cable news. There were so many speeches, opinions; panel after panel dissecting what promised to be a spectacular defeat by the Republicans, who nearly all smiled like religious zealots — because they were right. They were finally getting their piece of it. For the casual observer, an independent one, it didn’t feel right. It looked like a cloud of poison gas had leaked into the ventilation system, causing group hysteria. What exactly did all of it mean? Were these crazed mutants going to accomplish great things for the betterment of society? Madness! The honking sounds from the TV invaded my dreams. The politicians features exaggerated, they peed in the corners to mark their territories, threw excrement and bile at each other; incomprehensible blathering, snorting, scratching the ground, their toothless smiles gave the same image of terror that I’d found on the surface — of an ego inflated to incredible proportions, until the bloated thing became self–aware, began feeding on its own. The husk of its human skin fell like a tat- tered flag, the inhuman creatures lifting moth–like wings, fly- ing softly to their dark caves. I woke feeling that I’d been kid- napped, the glowering faces on TV all bloodied from the kill. The lines were long at the feeding trough. I was forced to stand near the coke machine. There were a lot of thirsty humans from the heat wave, everyone in a hurry, their faces washed out, impatient. “…yeah, that’s 72 please… 72.” A burst of laughter. It was me. The ice machine was load- ed from the top with a bucket; the sound of the ice tinkling together, a torrent. At the far side of the room an older Asian woman in turquoise held the room perfectly in her piercing soft gaze, her mouth firm, with the trace of a smile. Some of us enjoy all of this humanity: the packed conditions, the noise. I know them on sight, these wise ones. If only she would run for office. I look up to see about her, and she’s gone.
“I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom… a politi-
cian.. as I talked with him, I could not help thinking that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise by many, wiser still by himself. I tried to explain to him that he thought him- self wise, but he was not really wise; and he hated me, and his enmity was shared by several who were present. So I left him, saying to myself, ‘Well, although I don’t suppose either of us knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he — for he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows. I neither know nor think that I do.’” – from Plato’s Apology
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