Endgame Volume I_ The Problem of Civilization - Derrick Jensen [154]
My real breakthrough in understanding this story came when I realized that the Zen master’s actions only make sense if at least one of three (unstated of course) premises is in place: either 1) he believes in reincarnation, which means if he dies he’s coming back anyway; 2) he believes the material world is not primary, but instead a “hellish illusion” to which the Zen master has been “condemned,” which means he won’t so much mind leaving; or 3) he’s powerless to avert immediate death anyway.
If any of these are accurate, his equanimity makes some sense. And if any of these are accurate for me, then I could consider modeling my own attitudes and behavior on his.
But if his life is precious and meaningful to him—if he is in love not only with his own life but with at least some of the humans in his community, and also with the swirling of fog in the tops of trees, and the way the fog fades in the morning sun, and in love with the way baby bears shimmy up trees when frightened, and with the chattering of squirrels teasing dogs, with the squabbling of songbirds over seeds, with the slow majesty of newts, salamanders, and turtles—and if he has the opportunity through any action to stop the general and his troops from sacking the village, from destroying his own life and the lives of those he loves (Seven Samurai comes to mind), then this Zen master’s equanimity becomes nothing but a mask for cowardice, stupidity, and an appalling lack of creativity. And surely you can see that if he has the power to somehow stop the shogun’s general but does not simply because he believes that the world is not primary, his beliefs would directly serve those who wish to exploit and destroy. Surely then you can also see how these beliefs would be promulgated—pushed very hard—both by those in power and by those who believe themselves powerless, those whose cowardice makes them wish, unconsciously of course, that they actually do have no power.
And why would they wish that? Because then they need not take responsibility for the actions—the sacking of the village, for example—they take no steps to prevent.
There is much that is beautiful about Buddhism. I have heard some very wise Buddhists argue that the world is not illusion, that the problem is that because of our enculturation and our ego, we do not see the world in all its pain and beauty. Simply because much of what we see is illusion, they say, does not mean that nothing exists: it just means we do not see clearly. I love that. As my friend George Draffan says, “Meditation methods are ways to help us see more clearly, to dismantle our emotional and perceptual projections, to become more sensitive to what’s actually going on. . . . Meditation itself is an ingenious collection of tools, spiritual technologies for dismantling habituated patterns and projections.” To dismantle habituated patterns would be more than welcome. I could argue against none of this.
But Christians, too, can point to a theoretical