What am I? The Heart Sutra for Everyone

What am I?

Everyone’s guide to the Heart Sutra

By

Albert Low

rev 2016.10.26

Copyright © 2010 Albert Low

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http://www.albertlow.ca

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With respect and gratitude

to the memory of my first teacher

Yasutani roshi

"I can do without God in my life and in my painting, but I cannot, ill as I am, do without something which is greater than I, which is my life the power to create."

Van Gogh [1]

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

The Sutra

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Bibliography

Notes

More Books by Albert Low

Acknowledgements

My sincere thanks go to my wife, Jean, for her expert editing and valuable suggestions, to Bill Byers and Monique Dumont for the many conversations that we have had on the place of Zen in the West and for their having read and commented on the book, to Fred Bloom for his editing and encouragement, and to Alison Edwards who patiently transcribed the talks on which much of this book is based.

Preface

When, thirty years ago, I began teaching Zen Buddhism I spent some time wondering how best it could be integrated into Western culture. Generally speaking, people believe that Zen Buddhism is a religion. Indeed Vatican ll included Buddhism in the world religions because it gives us a way to face and work with the suffering of life. I have for a long time wondered whether the belief that Zen Buddhism is a religion is justified.

In Beyond the God Delusion: religion as a quest for transcendence [2] I made a distinction between two kinds of religion: on the one hand there is a religion of beliefs focused on a dynamic center, and this we normally see as ‘religion.’ The dynamic center of Christianity is Christ, and this center is supported by a structure of beliefs, images, rituals and ceremonies. On the other hand there is another kind of ‘religion,’ which is a quest for transcendence. I have put inverted commas around the word religion because this kind of religion and the one more usually known religion, are quite different both in method and in aim. So much so is this the case that the Roman Catholic Church and the Muslim religion have both been militantly active in their rejection of the quest for transcendence. Zen is certainly not a religion as generally understood in the West. It has no supreme deity, no belief system, its originator, Shakyamuni claimed no divine powers, and Zen practice has very few rituals.

Zen could hardly be called a philosophy either as it rejects the conceptual mind as an instrument for attaining truth. It is not a science, at least as understood in the West where science relies upon what can be seen and measured. Some have felt that Zen finds its home in the West as psychotherapy. Eric Fromm was of this opinion and wrote an interesting, but ill informed, section under the name of Zen and Psychoanalysis [3] in a book of that name. But such psychology as once existed has now been virtually been replaced by neuroscience. In any case, practical – as opposed to theoretical psychology – was, on the whole, addressed to pathological states of mind, whereas Zen is concerned with what lies beyond the mind itself.

Through lack of finding an adequate counterpart for many years I felt that Zen had no true connection with Western culture and, although of great value, I believed it would always be considered an exotic alien coming from outside of, and not a native to, our culture.

Many people have found Zen hard to accept, and a chief complaint is that it is too obscure, too confusing for the Westerner. Most famously C. G. Jung felt that Zen was not for the West.[4] In his Foreword to D.T. Suzuki’s Introduction to Zen Buddhism he said, Satori designates a special kind and way of enlightenment, which is practically impossible for the European to appreciate. [5] Troubled by the obscurity of Zen he cites as an example Zen master Gensha enquiring of the monk, who had asked him for the entrance to Zen, Do you hear the murmur of the brook? Yes, said the monk. That is the entrance, continued the master. [6] To someone who practices Zen this makes perfect sense. But, Jung opined, It is better not to allow oneself to become deeply imbued at the outset with the exotic obscurity of the Zen anecdote. [7] The Zen koans, he says, not only border on the grotesque, but are right there in the middle of it, and sound like crashing nonsense. [8] All of this does not deter him from explaining both satori and koans. His explanation does not concern us here, but it is worth mentioning that he affirmed, The only movement inside our civilization which has, or should have, some understanding of the [strivings for satori] is psychotherapy. [9] He says, For these and many reasons a direct transplantation of Zen to our Western condition is neither commendable nor even possible. [10]

With this verdict from such an esteemed authority the last word seems to have been spoken. In this case Zen is just another one of those fads that we engage in every now and then and, like occultism and spiritualism, hoola hoops and Frisbees, it will soon pass away. I feel though that to accept this verdict without appeal would be a tragedy. Although Zen is by no means the only spiritual path, Korean, Japanese and Western Zen have enough vitality to make Zen a transforming influence in the West, a transforming influence furthermore that the West thirsts after. If we can grasp truly what Zen practice leads to, we will find that it can help us to respond to some of the current perplexing questions about consciousness and the mind, about life and its vicissitudes.

Zen and Creativity

I struggled with the problem for a number of years until later it occurred to me that Zen has much in common with creativity. Indeed, the form of Zen that I practice and teach, which has strong affiliation with Rinzai Zen, is, in a way, a creative process. Reflecting more about this I came to believe that creativity is at the source of all religion as a quest for transcendence, of science and of philosophy. We can look at religion as an institution with all that this means, or we can look at religion as a process, as something that one practices in order to transcend even the practice itself. In just the same way we can consider science to be either the current body of knowledge and information that has been accrued over the years, or we can consider it as a process.

Religious people may well have difficulty in accepting the idea that the practice of religion is a kind of creative process. For most religious people the truths of religion are revealed from a higher, divine source, and therefore have a truth that ordinary truths discovered in a secular fashion do not have. As I will show, creativity has its origin beyond the normal faculty of the mind, and has a transcendental origin, which one could call divine depending on one’s inclination.

Scientists and philosophers likewise might bridle at the contention that the scientific truths have been created. Most prefer to believe that these truths have been ‘discovered,’ that the so-called laws of nature are intrinsic to the world, and that the duty of the scientists is to uncover those laws. This objection is based upon a faulty understanding that most of us have about creativity. Most believe that somehow artists alone are the creative members of society. Artists are, they believe, blessed with a special gift or faculty. This gift enables them to act in an arbitrary way, that is called, ‘being original,’ and many artists seem to believe that their main endeavor should be to shock, or at least shake up the minds of the people coming into contact with their art.

A management theorist, Elliott Jaques, defined work as the exercise of discretion within limits in order to produce a result. Any kind of work falls within this definition. When painting the kitchen, for example, one must do so within the time and money limits on the one hand, and the competence and aesthetic demands on the other. Arthur Koestler looked upon creativity as a single idea within two conflicting frames of reference. [11] Jaques ‘discretion’ includes the ability to create and maintain that single idea. Furthermore he believed that the basic limits were cost and quality: one seeks the highest quality for the lowest cost. These two correspond to Koestler’s incompatible frames of reference in that, other things being equal, to increase quality means to increase cost; on the other hand to reduce cost one must lower quality, again other things being equal.

Several conclusions can be drawn from this. One is that creativity, and the spiritual activity stemming from the Prajnaparamita, involves work: as has been said, creativity is composed of one percent inspiration and ninety nine percent perspiration. Another conclusion is that we can all be creative; creativity is not confined to a select few alone; likewise we can all take up spiritual work, it is not limited to monks, spiritual geniuses or saints. Finally, creativity is not an arbitrary process at all, but only occurs within definite limits.

I have said that Zen is a ‘kind of creative process.’ It would, perhaps be nearer to the truth if I said that the source of creativity and the source from which Zen arises is the same source: that Zen and creativity share a common root, and that root is life itself. Bearing in mind Koestler’s definition of creativity, life is a creative process arising from the fact that we see the world from two entirely different, indeed incompatible, points of view. We see the world as though from outside, and we see it as though from inside. I will spend the first two chapters of the book explaining and justifying this statement. For now I will just point out that because these points of view are quite incompatible, indeed contradictory, they set the stage for a creative situation. Moreover, according to Koestler’s definition, a creative situation requires, in addition to the incompatible frames of reference, a ‘single idea.’ I am suggesting that the Prajnaparamita Hridaya sutra says a lot about this ‘single idea.’

Unfortunately we have lost the meaning of the word ’idea’ because we now see it as a mere synonym for a thought. The etymological root of idea is idein ‘to see.’ Koestler’s ‘single idea is a generative idea; it is a renewed way of seeing that goes beyond – while integrating – conflicting and opposing viewpoints. I am not going to say that the Prajnaparamita Hridaya is expounding a particular idea, but rather that it is opening us to the source of all ideas. In this way the Prajnaparamita Hridaya shares a common root with creativity.

The connection between the two is made clearer if we consider the role of irony. Just as the Prajnaparamita Hridaya and creativity share a common root, so irony and the method of the Prajnaparamita Hridaya have a lot in common. Irony can only be appreciated creatively. Before going on with that let me point out that religions have a lot in common with metaphor. Let me, therefore, compare irony and metaphor as this will help clarify the method of irony and, at the same time, clarify the difference between religion and Zen Buddhism. Furthermore, and this is equally important, we shall see from this comparison how Zen, irony and metaphor, and ultimately the Prajnaparamita Hridaya are connected to creativity. In this way we shall be able to understand how the Prajnaparamita Hridaya, although at first baffling, is not some exotic flower that has only aesthetic or ‘comparative religious’ value, but, through its affiliation with creativity, is deeply embedded in our human nature, and is as relevant to a North American as it was to the first century Buddhist.

On metaphor

Shakespeare told us, All the world’s a stage. If we consider this metaphor carefully we see that two incompatible statements are being made: the world is a stage; the world is not a stage. If we are taken in by