Zen in the art of Teaching - Part 2

A photo I took of the Golden
Temple (Kinkaku-ji) in
Kyoto, 2016

No past, no future, just now.

Zen might be defined as "meditation Buddhism" but it is actually more complicated than that. Or so I've read.

So I'm definitely not going to presume that I know anything much about it. But there is something about its approach to life that intrigues me. Many of the mindfulness exercises that western culture is rapidly embracing emanate from Zen Buddhism. 

One thing is central to Zen Buddhism: it must be taught face-to-face by a recognised teacher who can usually claim to have a lineage to the Buddha (well, despite some gaps, which adherents take on faith).

Given that I've already had something to say in another post (Zen in the art of Teaching - Part 1) about the claim by Eugen Herrigel that archery and Zen are historically connected, I hesitate to quote him. However, there is something to be said for not throwing out the baby with the bathwater.

How far the pupil will go is not the concern of the teacher and the Master. Hardly has he shown him the right way when he must let him go alone. (Herrigel, p. 45)

"DANTE," YOU SAY, "YOU MAY WELL BE RIGHT. IT'S HARD." AT THIS POINT YOU GET AN IDEA (OTHERWISE KNOWN AS A BRTAIN-FADE). YOUR MOUTH OPENS AND SOME WORDS COME OUT.

"LET'S NOT DO IT. IT'S NOT ALL THAT IMPORTANT, AFTER ALL."

YOU WALK SLOWLY TO THE FRONT OF THE ROOM BUT REMAIN FACING THE WHITE-BOARD. YOU REMAIN THERE FOR SOME TIME IT SEEMS, BECAUSE THERE IS AN INQUIRY FROM A TINY VOICE.

"SIR. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

"YES, JOSH. I'M FINE. WHAT ABOUT YOU?"

There are often moments in life when that's all there is, that moment, a moment on which a life turns. I see Zen like that. 

You are still and the world turns. Like: stop the world. I want to get off but not like that because you can't get off and you can't stop what's unstoppable. Something else must be possible.

Surely you can't be still without there being, at the same moment, movement? 

It would be impossible to understand still without understanding move. Yes, it would be impossible. So both must be embraced.

I think this is what Zen can teach the teacher. The teacher moves with the present moment, brining training, knowledge, experience and insight. The teacher allows both the learning and the teaching to co-exist in that moment, like stillness and movement.

YOU TURN TO FACE THAT CONSTELLATION OF FACES. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

HE'S NOT SURE WHAT TO SAY. HE'S NOT SURE THAT YOU MEAN BY THE QUESTION, SO HE SAYS: "YEAH, SIR. I'M GOOD."

YOU REALISE THAT DANTE STILL HASN'T HAD HIS QUESTION ANSWERED.

"WAHT ABOUT YOU, DANTE? ARE YOU GOOD?" YOU FOLLOW THE URGE TO SIT ON ONE OF THE CHAIRS AT THE FRONT.

"I'M NOT SURE, SIR. I ... (YOU CAN FEEL HIS HISTORY IN THE PAUSE) ... I FEEL TIRED, THAT'S ALL."

YOU TAKE IN HIS LOOK OF UNCERTAINTY. HE RELIES ON YOU TO SHOW HIM THE ANSWER BUT HE ALSO RELIES ON YOU NOT TO TELL HIM.

YOU TURN SLOWLY TO GAZE OUT OF THE WINDOW AT THE BEGINNING OF A RAIN SQUALL AND A GAP OPENS IN YOUR AWARENESS.

YOU LOOK AROUND THE ROOM. "I WONDER WHAT CAUSES THAT?" YOU ASK.

I like the word awareness. A sort of open introspection.

At the same time, the Doer and the Done-to. 

Simultaneously, the Teacher and the Taught.