I note, Doug, that food is a constant theme running through
these posts of yours. Ice Cream, pizza, chocolate, and I recall
earlier references to Whoppers. I’m beginning to think
you are on a diet. I did lose a couple of pounds, I suspect,
by the way.
Thanks for taking the time to reply so comprehensively, Jim. 
I’m going to take a while to digest this and think it over.
At first reaction I wonder whether the issue isn’t that I don’t grasp the concept, but rather that I can’t imagine why someone would pursue such a state.
Like I say, some thought is needed here.
Thanks again.
I would say,
Man’s most natural state is joy and one way or another, every desire and every motivation can be distilled to an effort to increase the joy (or reduce its opposite) in a person’s life.
The only reason to pursue liberation/enlightenment is for the purpose of living the maximum possible joy. However, the joy of liberation must be distinguished from the joy of ordinary things, as characterized by the inevitable paired opposites, “joy and sorrow.”
The joy of liberation/enlightenment is a transcendent, different joy, beyond the pairs of opposites – joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, gain and loss, etc.
I was taught that enlightenment means not being bound to the pairs of opposites, having no undue attachment to joy (ordinary joy), pleasure, gain, etc. and no undue aversion to pain, sorrow, loss, etc.
The key word here is “undue.” There will always be some attachment and aversion as long as one in incorporated in a human form and experiencing the world through the senses, mind, intellect and ego.
The key is that the attachments become light, and remain only to the extent that they serve to allow the person to continue to function (and so continue to experience the transcendent joy of liberation/enlightenment).
The grasping is gone. Life becomes flow, and the capacity to find joy in ordinary things becomes greater, not less, because of the non-grasping lightness with which one attaches oneself to and releases oneself from each passing experience. One can much more truely live each moment in full because the past is much less binding and the future much less distracting than before.
Best wishes,
Jerry
Makes sense.
Yes, you probably grasp the concept. The reason to pursue it
is that it vastly reduces suffering and also there is a lovely
ease and grace in one’s life where self-concern used to be.
Jerry rather expressed that. But it isn’t as though this is
something we SHOULD do–the Buddha invited people
merely to ‘come and see.’
Nano, I agree entirely. Buddhism (the Theravada practice I’m
describing, anyhow) is grounded in moral precepts. Not harming
living things, right speech, not taking what isn’t given, sexual
responsibility, no drugs/booze, right livelihood. Teachers who violate precepts are not to be trusted.
One of the things I like about the Theravada is the emphasis
on morality (sila). In some other traditions this is downplayed.
So Zen, which is a wonderful tradition, nonetheless became
so much the religion of the samurai caste that the first
precept (against killing) was largely forgotten. This found its
completion in the ardent support of Zen for Japanese aggression
in WWII.
The other idea that comes to me is to devote 10% of one’s time and energy to what seem to be more altruistic pursuits. However, I warn that this is no guarantee of anything. A friend of mine volunteered at a weekly dinner to help feed homeless people. After her experience, I asked if it felt like she was doing any good. The answer was a surprising no, even with this stereotypical activity of altruisism.
Another friend devotes much more than 10% of her time to special projects such as volunteering with a mental health group, and helping with Special Olympics disabled athlete events. Despite this, she observes other people doing more, or doing things in other areas such as the environment or working with animals and that empty feeling still gnaws at her.
Where ever a person is, there is need. Sometimes it is a great need, sometimes it is a small one. That said, many people throw up their hands and do nothing. Do one thing, and then another. If service is the goal (as opposed to ego, or control, or one upsmanship), success is guaranteed.
What gets slippery is that Zen practice and Zen Buddhism can be conveniently divorced, and that is partly how Zen thought came to fit the samurai tradition so well, since those who had little time for religion (and, being samurai, there were well more than a few of those) could still profit from the discipline and be “better” samurai for it. It would understandably be an attractive prospect for the warrior class. I make a distinction between Zen and Zen Buddhism, myself. I hope I’ve been consistent in those distinctions in the past, but I fear that words don’t always explain themselves!
Sorry, Jim, I would disagree with your last take. While its true that the more aggressive elements of Japanese society latched onto the training techniques of Zen Buddhism to enhance their own effectiveness at violence, this is not advertised or applauded by Zen Buddhism. It is only the aggressive elements that loudly praise the skills learned from Zen. Zen Buddhism is just as appalled at violence and killing as any other sect of Buddhism. They do not teach how to be a Samurai or anything related to such behaviour.
djm
Then again, there was the brilliant monk Takuan, who almost singlehandedly married Zen to the samurai tradition. But I’m tentatively of the mind that his purpose was not to produce better killing machines, but rather, recognising that the fighting wasn’t going to go away, and that duty was so overriding for the samurai to all else, might have decided that maybe it was better to at least give the samurai something to have a chance for liberation with and not hinder them from doing a good job into the bargain. Just a guess, though.
I wonder if he would have changed his mind if he could have foreseen how history unfolded.
One monk does not entire religious sect make. I would no more interpret the actions of one monk as being representative of all Buddhism than I would take the words and behaviour of Jim Falwell as representing all Christianity. Remember that Zen is actually the Japanese attempt to pronounce the Chinese word “Ch’an” - sitting. This particular branch of Buddhism had a long history in China before being adapted by the Japanese. I do not see any benefit in perpetuating the myth that what the samurai did with Zen Buddhism was anything less than an attrocity.
djm
I never said as much, nor was it my intent to imply it.
Jim & all --this is a very interesting sort of conversation, a sort of (thanks, Richard Farina) celebration for a gray day.
Lacking anything but a literary knowledge of Buddhism (and American lit, at that, mostly), I don’t have much to offer on that side of things. Still, Jim, I’ve been thinking about your idea that you have no duty to be a philosopher, which makes sense. But you also have no duty not to be one, since your activities as a philosopher seem to cause no harm to you or others. Indeed, you may even consider them to do the opposite as your work (what I’ve seen of it) is in service of an ethical understanding and an inquiry into morality…well, in an illusory world where no one is called to do anything in particular, it seems to me you’ve done pretty well.
Gary Snyder (you can see where my notions of Buddhism come from) is clear about not wanting those he’s influenced to move to the back country and engage in the practice of the wild where and as he did; instead, they should stay where they are and take on the discipline of actually knowing where that is and what to do with it. Which is, I’d guess without claiming any success myself, how a small discipline (analytical philosophy, say, or poetry) might dovetail with a larger one.
Welcome back,
Jordan
My source for these claims is the Brian A. Victoria book,
Zen at War, 1997, Weatherhill. Victoria, a Zen Buddhist,
thinks Zen was deeply involved in championing violence
and killing during WWII. According to
Victoria, some of the most
important and famous Zen masters and scholars of the last century
were writing and saying perfectly horrible things, including
stuff about ‘the scheming Jews.’ Also the Uchiyama book,
I think it’s Advice to the Cook–Uchiyama, a Zen master writes:
‘During WWII Soto fell asleep and Rinzai went crazy.’
I have read elsewhere that after the war Zen fell into
disrepute in Japan, because it was so associated with
militarism.
You are certainly right to distinguish Chan from Zen,
the latter being in some ways as much Japanese
as Buddhist (I have practiced a good deal in Soto Zen)
and I have no grievance with Zen–though Victoria
maintains that it has done too little to accept its
responsibility.
I think the precepts matter a great deal, which is one
of the features of the Theravada I find attractive.
On paper, Jim, the Precepts are supposed to matter in Zen Buddhism, too. In Japan, following them seems to have become an option (and not only for Zen Buddhist priests, by the way), and moreover it’s not unusual for priesthood to be hereditary nowadays, celibacy also being among those options. Given one of the primary public services rendered by priests, which is rites for the dead and memorial services, it’s often seen as a business.
When I was in Akita, I stayed at a Soto temple for a weekend. The priest in charge was well-disciplined and conducted formal services and sutra recitations according to schedule whether there were other people attending or not. At the end of the day, we all relaxed, his wife served us food, we drank beer, sake and scotch, told bad jokes, and sang karaoke.
It didn’t bother me too much. As an American, I’m pretty relaxed about that sort of thing myself, so long as things have their place and some moderation is involved. Then again, I’m a heretic all around. 
Still, I understand that there are “true believers” in Japan, although they are few; the general population tends to regard the whole thing as just being there, like window-dressing. Shame, really.
Or you’re much closer than someone who thinks they know why they’d want to pursue that state (which would be attatching to the fruits again). If you already “know” what it is, you can’t find it.
Why one might put themselves on a path which could lead to “something different” (whatever it is, but not my usual “bag of tricks”) is a question that is vastly different.
I was taught, “Expectations and doubts are great obstacles.”
I’m convinced that many from my own practice discipline, who had also heard that teaching many times, have still managed to bind themselves to what they expect enlightenment to be. I believe they have dismissed their own legitimate experience of it because it doesn’t match their imaginary expectation of what enlightenment is supposed to be.
Similarly, I have a concern about descriptions of the Buddha or this or that monk or nun given as descriptions of advanced or enlightened practitioners. They’re wonderful to read, and very uplifting and instructive, but I believe it is a serious mistake to imagine that one should model one’s own enlightenment on such descriptions.
They were/are living THEIR enlightenment, consistent with THEIR personalities, culture, etc. There is only one enlightenment that will fit any one individual, and that’s his or her own enlightenment.
Of course, there will be aspects that are the same among all enlightened people, but there will also be MANY aspects that will be completely different. It’s important to winnow the meaning of enlightenment down to what it fundamentally is and discard those artifacts that are only circumstantial or are only individual reflections of an enlightened state that will reflect differently from different enlightened individuals.
Best wishes,
Jerry
That is a very helpful post, Jerry, thank you. I can relate, to an extent, when it is explained in those terms.
I think I know what you mean, and I’m sure you’re right.
Thanks guys. I live and learn
Ripple
As performed by the Grateful Dead
Lyrics by Robert Hunter
If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come thru the music,
Would you hold it near as it were your own?
It’s a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken,
Perhaps they’re better left unsung.
I don’t know, don’t really care
Let there be songs to fill the air.
Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.
Reach out your hand if your cup be empty,
If your cup is full may it be again,
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.
There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.
Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.
You who choose to lead must follow,
But if you fall you fall alone,
If you should stand then who’s to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home.
La dee da da da, La da da da da, Da da da, Da da, Da da da da da
La da da da, La da da, Da da, La da da da, La da, Da da.
Best wishes,
Jerry
This “harp unstrung” image is poignant, I think, especially in the context of a discussion about selflessness and action/work.
Best wishes,
Jerry