Hardcore Zen_ Punk Rock, Monster Movies and the Truth About Reality - Brad Warner [40]
But here’s the thing: that mess is itself enlightenment. You’ll eventually see that the “you” that’s a mess isn’t really “you” at all. But whether you notice your own enlightenment or not is utterly inconsequential; whether you think you’re enlightened or not has nothing to do with the real state of affairs.
We all have a self-image and we call that self-image “me.” I do. You do. Dogen did and so did Gautama Buddha. Their enlightenment didn’t change the fact that they had a self-image. Nor did they stop referring to that image as “me” when trying to communicate to someone else. Obviously you can’t talk about anything at all without socially accepted and understood words to use to refer to it. The problem with our self-image is that we don’t see it for what it really is: a useful fiction. The idea that our self-image is something permanent and substantial is so basic to us that we would probably never even think to question it. We believe in it; we believe that because it’s such a useful fiction it’s really real. It may be the only thing most of us actually believe in. The truth comes when you can see that your self-image is just a convenient reference point and nothing more, and that you as you had imagined yourself do not exist.
This is another way Buddhism differs from religion. Every religion in the world starts off from the premise that the self is a substantial entity and builds from there. They all start off on a foundation that isn’t just wobbly, it’s entirely absent! It’s like trying to build a house by stacking bricks in the sky.
I’d been searching for enlightenment for all those years without realizing that the “I” who wanted to be enlightened wasn’t real. I was looking at the problem in completely the wrong way. I was expecting some great change to happen to “me.” It doesn’t work that way at all. But nor is it the case that realizing the self isn’t real somehow destroys you. In the Shobogenzo Dogen says, “Realization doesn’t destroy the individual any more than the reflection of the moon breaks a drop of water. A drop of water can reflect the whole sky.”
SO I SPENT THE FIRST NIGHT at that temple avoiding Farting Man and being baffled by what Nishijima said about enlightenment, then it was time for bed. Just as I was about to roll over for the second half of a good night’s sleep, there came a tremendous clanging, like cold ice picks being driven into my ears. The kid with the thankless job of doing the morning wake-up ritual was making the rounds of the temple shaking a noisy brass bell. This is what passes for a friendly call from the reception desk in Zen. Nishijima was up and folding his futons in seconds, with Jeremy quickly following suit. Farting Man yawned, stretched, then got to work on folding his up too. I lingered in bed a bit longer trying to fend off the inevitable but gave up after the rest of them had stepped over me a few times.
I went through the rest of the retreat remaining thoroughly unenlightened. Farting Man remained oblivious. And Jeremy remained, well, bald and Buddhist-looking. But I was pleased when once, after Farting Man left the room, Nishijima whispered to me and Jeremy, “You know, he is a very strange man.”
It would take several more years of struggle and frustration before I got any glimmer as to what the answer to the whole enlightenment question might be, or to even properly understand the question itself. I’d formed a pretty clear image of what enlightenment ought to feel like and I kept waiting for that image to become reality. Unsurprisingly, it never did. Now I’m sure it never will.
D.T. SUZUKI, the first really popular Zen Buddhist writer in the Western world was a Rinzai man all the way.