The Pools

[3bob]

THE POOLS

teisho by Charlotte Joko Beck, Sensei

 

This text addresses some of the most fundamental and delicate religious issues.

Therefore, it should be read, quoted and analyzed in a mindful way.

 

Copyrights © by Charlotte Joko Beck and Zen Center of San Diego, USA

 

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THE POOLS

 

"Let's picture if we can two landscapes. The first has a deep clear quiet pool,

and the second also has a deep clear quiet pool. The first one is surrounded by

garbage. The second one, also surrounded by garbage, has an odd characteristic -

everyone who jumps into the pool takes a little pile of garbage in with him --

and there is something in the pool that eats it up, so it remains quiet and

clear.

 

Which kind of practice are you doing? Most of us long for deep, blissful

sitting and, even if our pool of peace is ringed around with garbage, we attempt

not notice it; if the garbage can disturb us, we want to ignore it. We don't

like difficulties; we prefer to sit in our peace and not be intruded upon.

That's one type of sitting.

 

The other kind of pool eats up the garbage; as fast as it appears, it is

consumed as the person entering the pool carries it in with him. Still in a

short time the pool is clear and undisturbed. It may churn more at first. The

major difference is that the first pool ends up with more and more garbage

around it; the second has none or very little.

 

As has been said, most of us long for the first kind of practice (life). But the

second, facing life as it is, is more genuine; we keep churning up our drama --

seeing it, experiencing it, swallowing it -- throwing the garbage into

ourselves, the deep pool that we are.

 

A practice exclusively devoted to concentration (shutting out all but the object

of concentration) is the first pool. Very peaceful, very seductive. But when you

climb out of the pool, the garbage of life remains -- our dualistic dealings

with our work and relationships. You haven't handled them. Or you may resort to

the well-intentioned but inaccurate devices of positive thinking or

affirmations; the gas in the garbage increases and in time explodes.

 

The second pool (being each moment of life, pleasant or unpleasant) is at times

a slow and frustrating practice, but in the long run, fruitful and satisfying.

 

With all that as a background, let's look at what can be called the turning

point in our life and practice. From what are we turning? Let's look at some

sentences: "I feel irritated. I feel annoyed. I feel happy." What we omit is:

"I feel I am hurt by you. I feel I have been made happy by you."

 

Actually, the fact is not that you irritate me, it's that I have a desire to be

irritated. You may loudly protest, "oh, never, I certainly don't want to feel

irritated or hurt..." Well, just for a few years (intelligently, in the second

pool). The first and uncomfortable years of sitting make it clearer and clearer

that my desire is to be irritated or angry (separate). That's almost all I have

known as a means to preserve and protect what I think is my identity. With

continued awareness, it dawns that there is only one person who can irritate me

or make me feel lonely and depressed, and it is myself -- myself as a false

identity.

 

We begin to see a strange and lethal truth: contrary to our beliefs, our basic

drive and all our life force goes into a struggle to perpetuate our separateness,

our touchiness, or self-righteousness.

 

Lao Tzu said, "He who feels punctured, must be a balloon", the balloon of

irritability, anger, self-centered opinions. If we can be punctured (hurt), we

can be sure we are still a balloon. We want to be a balloon; otherwise we could

not be punctured. But our greatest desire is to keep the balloon inflated. After

all, it's me!

 

So what would turning be? What is the turning point? It begins when we observe

and feel our anger, our manipulation, our anxiety - and know in our hearts a

deep determination to be in another mode.

 

Then the real transformation can begin. Instead of ignoring garbage, pushing it

away, or wallowing in it, we take our garbage into ourselves and let it digest.

We take ourselves with us into the pool of life. This begins the turning. After

it, life is never the same.

 

The turning is at first feeble and intermittent. Over time, it becomes stronger

and more insistent (in Christian terms, the 'hound of haven' chases us). As it

strengthens, more and more we know who our Master is. Of course, the Master is

not a thing or a person but our awakening knowledge of Who We Are. The difficult

years of practice (and life) come before the turning. The patience and skill of

both teacher and student are called on to the utmost. Some but not all will make

it through the difficulties.

 

Gurdjieff said: man is a machine. We know how machines work: when the blender's

button is pushed, it goes WHOOSSSH; when we turn our car's ignition key, the

motor roars. Man is a machine. Why? As long as a man's primary drive is to keep

his balloon un-punctured, to avoid having his buttons pushed, he is an automatic

machine which has no choice.

 

Even moving from passive dependence to an active and angry independence --

"Don't tell me what to do!" -- is still the activity of a machine with buttons.

I feel ruled and compelled by 'something else'; I have no choice. Like the

blender, if pushed, I turn on.

 

Suppose you do something to me that I view as punishing (it's mean, it's unfair,

I don't deserve it). How do I react when this button is pushed? With anger? (And

I may not reveal my anger, or I may turn it against myself). Then I am a

machine. In this instance, what would the tuning point be?

 

The turning point is my ability, developed slowly by practice, to be aware of

the thoughts and bodily sensations which comprise anger. In the observing of

thoughts and sensations, anger will swallow itself and its energy can open life

instead of destroying it. Then I (the angry one) can act out of this clarity in

a manner that benefits me and you. This is the way of the second pool, the one

that takes the garbage, digests it, letting it feed and renew life as compost

does a garden.

 

Let us not have some naive notion that this ability is won overnight. A lifetime

is more like it. Nevertheless, faithful and determined practice makes a

difference and fairly soon at that.

 

We come to view the unpleasant aspects of life as learning opportunities. If my

balloon is deflated a little -- great!. As an opportunity to be welcomed, not

avoided or dramatized. Each round of such practice renders us a little less

machine-like, gives us more appreciation of ourselves and others.

 

Let's live in the second pool".

[goldisheavy]

I think this is a good article overall, although I don't agree 100% with everything in it, but mostly I agree with the general sentiment and with the two pools metaphor.

 

With continued awareness, it dawns that there is only one person who can irritate me

or make me feel lonely and depressed, and it is myself -- myself as a false

identity.

 

I strongly disagree with this bit. At first, it sounds nice, but it is naive. So let's look at the superficial layer of truth in this first. I have to note, that this superficial layer is very deep to some people and it takes them an entire lifetime to realize its truth, so it not absolutely superficial. It's superficial to my mind.

 

The most common example of a false identity is identifying ourselves as a body. In this sense, if I am a body, then whatever hurts my body is bad for me. Whatever cajoles, coddles and protects my body is good for me. And we face life from this point of view. So for example, having a house is good for my body, because that's how the body is protected from the elements. Having a house takes money. Having money takes a job. Having a job takes employment. Employment takes a positive view of the employer toward the employee. Now, if some coworker says something negative about me, there is a worry that this opinion will become shared by my employer, and my employment is in danger. Since my employment is in danger, my income is in danger. Since my income is in danger, my ability to pay for the house is in danger, and so on, until you get to the point that my body is in danger.

 

So, most people spend lifetimes just to stop identifying themselves as a body. It's a lot of work, and at first, it's also very counter-intuitive, because intuition is a conditioned phenomenon and not necessarily every instance of intuition is associated or aligned with a universal truth. So this is the kind of limited identity the author is talking about, and from this point of view, the article seems to make sense and it seems like a good and helpful article.

 

However, the quoted part of the article is wrong and is potentially harmful in the long term.

 

At some point you can transcend your identification as a body. And indeed many many fears and stresses become lifted at that point. Suddenly you're not afraid to lose your job. You're not afraid to get sick. You're not afraid to die and so on. This is better than before. But is that it? Is this nirvana? Hell no!

 

Why not?

 

Because even though I no longer have an opinion about myself and what am I, I still have an opinion about other people! I still think other people should be happy. And it just so happens that other people are at odds with each other. So even if I think, let others do what they want with me, but if I also think, I don't want others to come to harm, them I am in hell. I am in hell, because even though I don't have an opinion about myself, I have an opinion about others. Maybe I am not a body, but others sure are, or at least, others think they are.

 

Aha, but what happens if I transcend even this level of identity?

 

I have to get rid of my idea about what others are too, right? Suddenly people are not people anymore. How about their opinions? If my own opinions about myself don't matter, do others opinions about themselves matter? If yes, I am in hell. If not, look what happens next. If I liberate my mind from other people's opinions about themselves, I am free to treat other people however I please. I can cook them for dinner. I can grind them into dog treats for my dog. I can use people however I please, and this is even made easier by the fact that I don't fear for my own safety. This might indeed be nirvana for me, but is this nirvana on the whole?

 

If I am sensitive to other people's suffering, I will have to suffer. If I completely free myself from suffering, there is absolutely no way I can be sensitive to other people's suffering.

 

I am not going to say what is right and what is wrong. I am not going to say what you should or shouldn't do. But this is something you need to consider at some point, no matter what you decide.

 

And this is why simplistic Zen, simplistic Buddhism, simplistic Daoism is garbage. This is why religion is a failure. Even a very beautiful and subtle dogma like Buddhism is a failure in the grand scheme of things, because it is ultimately dishonest.

[3bob]

"If I am sensitive to other people's suffering, I will have to suffer. If I completely free myself from suffering, there is absolutely no way I can be sensitive to other people's suffering".

 

The sentence above apparently wraps up your point of view... (?)

 

Such is not of my experience. The free one can help free others from suffering... and their sensitivity is instantaneous and very far reaching, in fact right into very the depths of heart and mind that only the

- absolutely purest - of trustworthy intentions, kindness, understanding, and an uplifting of energy are given to help face and relieve suffering!

 

Om

[goldisheavy]

"If I am sensitive to other people's suffering, I will have to suffer. If I completely free myself from suffering, there is absolutely no way I can be sensitive to other people's suffering".

 

The sentence above apparently wraps up your point of view... (?)

 

Not exactly. My view cannot be expressed in a sound bite or a quote out of context.