The Diamond in Your Hand

Lately I have taken a short break from reading Buddhist literature and turned my attention to other nondual spiritual traditions, namely Vedanta and Taoism. I think that it's important to understand how these different systems understand and organize the Awakened mind.

I'm not so much interested in the fact that Vedanta's interpretation of the unified universe (as Brahman, the eternal Ground of Being that is the true nature of all phenomena) starkly contrasts with Buddhism's position that everything is empty of that very same essence.

This is because two more-immediate topics interest me: first, that Vedanta's Self or Atman is virtually identical to the One Mind or Buddha Nature of Zen Master's like Mazu and Huang Po. The Mind or Self is bare and infinite nondual awareness. This should come as no surprise since both Zen and Vedanta can arguably be understood as expressions of the same reality, REALITY.

The second facet that intrigued me was how these two systems understand the relative world, and more specifically, what an Awakened person looks like in each of the these traditions. The difference lies in how these two interpret identity and the world of differentiation that we live in every day, the world where you live in one house and I in another.

On one level Vedanta explains the world of multiplicity as sheer illusion, maya or ignorance. According to this perspective, the truth is that all reality is the infinite, eternal Brahman, so any appearance of change is illusory. Obviously, this approach does not place much value in living inside of maya. This undervaluing of the relative world has always been hard for me accept.

Zen, on the other hand, understands that everything is an expression of the Dharmadhatu, and thus everything has ultimate value. This is the Taoist element in Zen, a gift from Zen's Chinese ancestors.

It is only fair to acknowledge that not all forms of Vedanta dismiss the relative world. Two amazing Vedanta teachers that I highly encourage you to read are Papaji and his student Gangaji.

I stumbled upon Papaji while reading a book about modern Vedanta masters, and he blew my mind. Papaji is a great Zen Master. I honestly cannot praise his teachings enough. The way that I see it, he and Zen Master Seung Sahn could easily have been Dharma brothers! Papaji's style is warm, grandfatherly, and direct. In my opinion, he is second-to-none as an Enlightened being of the 20th century. (I know what you're thinking: what about Sri Ramana Maharshi? Papaji was his student!) Read anything you can by him; it's all great.

His student, and the person I planned to write this whole post about, is Gangaji. She is an American teacher based out of the West Coast. About a year ago my mother gave me a copy of Gangagi's The Diamond in Your Pocket. Totally consumed with my own Buddhist studies at the time, I put the book off to the side. I read it about a month ago and was amazed.

Earlier I mentioned that there are Vedanta teachers who emphasize life in this world. These Vedantists understand that the realm of form is illusory in the sense that form is not an absolute in and of itself, as most people unconsciously assume it to be, but rather Brahman is its true nature.  

This understanding emphasizes the need to awaken to our true nature, followed by a lifetime of service in this world. This is the Bodhisattva Vow and what appeals to me so much about Papaji and Gangaji's teaching.

The Diamond in Your Pocket is a true masterpiece; it's a veritable diamond in your hand. I seriously considered rereading right after I finished it; that has never happened to me before. There is so much practical wisdom in the book that you have to reread it to absorb it all, like Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind or Dropping Ashes on the Buddha. Please, if you haven't already, do yourself the favor and read these two amazing teachers.

Thanks Mom for giving me the book. Many bows.

Dharma for two

Here are two of my more colorfully entitled Dharma talks.

Project: Help Build a Zen Center

I'm finally doing it; I'm trying to open a full time Zen center! Currently, our Zen group, the Original Mind Zen Sangha, meets on Sunday and Wednesday nights in Princeton, NJ. In order to provide more services to the community, both in terms of meditative instruction and spiritual counsel, I really want to expand those times that we meet. There's only so much you can do when you meet twice per week. Not to mention the limitations involved in renting a small space. Right now, we can accommodate about 15 people, nine on mats (including me) and six on chairs. That's not many people at all.

The plan is to purchase a property that can serve as a permanent Zen Center. Yesterday I drove my daughter to acting class at a converted fire house. The place was awesome! It had a HUGE main room, probably 50 x 50 feet, plus a small kitchen, office, and full classroom. Now that's a space! People see a room that large, and they feel inspired to attend, join, and practice. I felt inspired just looking at the room.

So here we go. Without sounding too trite, there's only way to undertake a venture of this magnitude, and that's just to do it. Like Hamlet, the more we think about a project this size, the more we can get locked in indecision, considering the incalculable variables.

I've started a donation to raise the funds. If you can, please donate below. Or share it with anyone you think might be interested in contributing. This is going to be a long process, but one well worth it. Thanks for reading and any support you can provide!

Am-ness

Here are two of my latest Dharma talks. Honestly, for the life of me I thought that I had posted all of them, but somehow I keep getting backlogged and need to include two to catch up. I hope you enjoy.

Thanks Tom for your help with the intros and sound engineering. No Tom, no podcast. _/|\_

The Tao of Zen

The way that most people, myself included, usually explain Zen to beginners is to say that Zen is the child of an Indian Buddhist father and a Chinese Taoist mother. Ray Grigg, author of The Tao of Zen, would disagree. In this fascinating book, Grigg points out that there are two forms of Zen--Zen and Zen Buddhism. Most of the time we use the two terms synonymously...so what's the difference?

According to Grigg, if we examine classical Zen literature, we find two distinct traditions, one serious, stern, and world-transcending. This is Zen Buddhism, situated in the austere monastic halls. It is exemplified by bowing, chanting, and countless hours of seated meditation.

Then there's the playful, lighthearted, earthy Taoist-flavored Zen. This Zen is free-spirited, spontaneous, and world-embracing. This is expressed by the unencumbered nature of flowing water, and personified by the paradoxical dialogues of the ancient masters.

In my opinion, the first half of the book is a little heavy and sometimes didactic in illustrating this dichotomy, but it's well worth it. The second half is absolutely beautiful in its poetic depiction of Zen and Taoism. Lately, I have been reading about Advaita Vedanta, the nondual Hindu school which teaches that the differentiated world of samsara is an illusion; that the true reality is one unified Ground called Brahman. While this is metaphysically similar to the Tao, the unnameable reality that embraces and supports all phenomena, it is much closer to traditional (Pali) Buddhism in its implications, namely that it encourages world transcendence.

Taoism, on the other hand, and its Zen counterpart, is primarily concerned with living in the world of name and form, though not bound by it. This difference is what Grigg's book delineates.

I'm not a Zen scholar so I'm not in a position to critically evaluate his thesis. My main reason for reading The Tao of Zen was to learn more about Taoism and its influence on Zen. And while the books' treatment of this subject was more incidental than anything else, I was overwhelmingly pleased by what I learned about Taoism and Zen.

I highly encourage any student of Zen (Buddhism) to read it.

How to be eaten by a tiger

Here's two of my latest Dharma talks, "How to be Eaten by a Tiger," delivered on 3/31/13. It's about authentic action.



And the question that every parent can relate to: "Are We There Yet?"



If you enjoy these talks, you can subscribe to the Original Mind podcast on iTunes.

We don't need no stinkin' mats!

My jaw dropped when I entered the Dharma room last Sunday. There were no meditation mats there. I quickly scanned the room, then did a double take as I tried to process the surprise.

Where were the mats?

This had never happened before. We usually have about fifteen maroon mats stacked in the corner of the room, but only two remained--odd ones out, a red one and a black one. Before I got excited or anxious, I decided I should search the other rooms in case someone had moved the mats.

Nada. 

This was...interesting. Zen groups usually rely on mats like a mechanic on tools. Ordinarily I wouldn't have given the situation much thought, but our sangha had just posted an event on Meetup and we were expecting up to eight visitors. 

What a way to make an impression, huh? "Hi, I'm Andre. Glad you decided to join us today. Let me show you to your place ON THE FLOOR." 

The bare, matless floor. 

As I explained it later, it felt like I had invited guests over for dinner but forgot to buy plates. 

So what should we do? I wondered as two of our regular members arrived and I explained the situation to them. 

In our Zen lineage, we stress correct situation, relationship, and function. 

Where are we? What's going on? What circumstances are unfolding around and inside us?

What's our role in this context? How can we help?

In reality, there was no problem. What I was facing was a disparity between reality and expectation. People expect mats at meditation centers, but mats have no more to do with Zen than a toothbrush and a crocodile.

Zen is completely portable, and should in no means be limited to the seated position, or worse--the mat. Meditation is wherever we presently are; it's how we engage our minds and lives right here right now.

So this case of the missing mats was a great opportunity for practice, for all of us to confront and see through our expectations about meditation, practice, Zen and Zen teachers. 

Upon the suggestion of one of our members, we improvised: we constructed little seats from pillows and meditation cushions (thanks Tom and Andrew). Maybe it's not a magnificent example of Zen spontaneity found in the dialogues of the classical masters, but it was a humbling lesson in correct situation, relationship, and function. 

What do we do when we arrive at the Zen center and the mats are gone?

We do our best with what we have--cushions, pillows, and chairs. In the words of my teacher, "It's all good."

And it is, if we can only get past our preferences, opinions, and ideas. If only we can get out of our own way and just function.

I still don't know if the mats will be there tomorrow, but that's okay. Surprises are not only great opportunities to learn and practice, but they starkly reveal the true nature of life--always changing, changing, changing. 

Above photo borrowed courtesy of Creative Commons flickr user: timsamoff.