Samsara or Nirvana?

Nirvana, samsara. Which one do you like better?

We, Buddhists or not, just people in general, are used to considering our past and our future as something solid, something we can grasp, but we cannot grasp neither past nor future. In spite of that a lot of people are very busy trying to work out what they might attain in future and what they attained or didn't attain in past. In case they are interested in Buddhism they wrongly believe the goal is attaining some kind of super mental state and in business it may be for example making one million dollars. In business making one milillion dollars is a good thing, for sure, but super mental states in Buddhism are definitely not.

In Buddhism we learn something very important and that is focusing on the present, while the past and future, although they are not unimportant, are two things we definitely cannot do anything about. We can remember something that happened yesterday and we believe the way we remember the thing changes the thing. We believe that actually what we remember represents the truth. But the past is only our dream now. We cannot change what happened. As for future, we can prepare for something and by doing something now we can try to change what will happen later. But later the Sun may explode and our actions now will have little effect on tomorrow after the Sun explosion. So in Buddhism we learn to make all efforts to live now as well as possible, no matter what will come next. And to live here and now well is not something that can be done only after spending 50 years in zazen or reading all sutras and memorizing them. When it comes to samsara and nirvana, both are available in abundance every day and we all experience both every day, but some people experience much more samsara than nirvana. For these people nirvana is something far, far away and probably not even something that could be attained within 100 years.

My teacher Mike Luetchford and his teacher Gudo Nishijima and Gudo's teacher Kodo Sawaki, they all taught that nirvana is a state that we attain in this moment, just when we are not disturbed by some bad feelings or thoughts, just now when we are simply doing something. That already is nirvana, and of course, we return to samsara when we start to be angry, frustrated, confused, egotistical etc. So nirvana is nothing special and samsara is not a prison that an ordinary person cannot escape.

Buddhism would not be Buddhism if it encouraged people to see nirvana as something distant, something only a special person with special experience can achieve. Buddhism encourages people to find nirvana in the most ordinary moments of one's everyday life. So to make a huge difference between samsara and nirvana saying these two are like hell and heaven, is a good way how to get stuck in a mindset based on dreams. Both samsara and nirvana are essentially the present existence and always both available.

Shunyata, emptiness, which is a vague translation, is not something we could learn intellectually or attain or avoid or could not experience. Shunyata is a valid aspect of our existence, so everyone is living in the midst of shunyata, everything is essentially shunyata. Shunryu Suzuki said: "A bird exists, but at the same time it doesn't exist." In other words, we cannot grasp a bird. There is no such a thing as "bird". That is the empty essence of bird. On the other hand we have encountered birds. That is the phenomenal aspect of birds. Both is valid. This is maybe very difficult to understand. What about love. A relationship. We talk about a relationship, our relationship has improved, it has been great recently. We are talking about something we consider real and valid. But on the other hand, there is no relationship we could point to, and say, here it is, this is our relationship. It is empty. And this empty nature of things helps us experience the nice state of nirvana, when we are sitting under a tree, listening to the birds and leaves and we are not disturbed by the situation of the relationship.

When we practice zazen, we practice shunyata, samsara and nirvana at the same time. They all somehow interact. There is no problem, nothing to worry about, nothing to grasp, that is shunyata of zazen. Then there is the itching, impatience, useless thoughts, pain in the knees, sexual fantasies and crazy ideas - that is the samsara of zazen. And then there is just this present moment, a moment of nothing special, no philosophical analysis, no frustration, no goals, no ideals, and that is the nirvana of zazen.

What most people do these days is that they cannot make use of shunyata as valid aspect of their existence, so they have a hard time finding a way out of the hell of their everyday lives. They believe they are mostly stuck in samsara, no matter if they call it so or not, and hope that one day they will find a pristine island with no bad people around, no problems, only blue skies and blue waters and delicious fresh food brought on silver plates by topless supermodels. And when they don't think it is possible to get there, at least they try to escape the hardship of everyday life by going to a swimming pool or skiing in the Alps. But that already is nirvana anyway and some people admit that - they say "That was awsome, brilliant, fantastic. If only it didn't last only five days or five minutes... " What we Buddhists can learn though, is finding nirvana even in very simple actions during the weekdays. We can forget about our past and future and just enjoy ourselves in the present while feeling balanced. That is nirvana and in a way, that is the goal of Buddhism. But samsara is a necessary aspect of every Buddhist's life, too. We can never avoid it completely. A little bit of samsara here, a bit of nirvana there and we come up with a Buddhist life at its best.

Personal Experience

In the last post I wrote that there is no profit in Buddhist practice. But logically, you must profit from Buddhist practice if you do it correctly, right? You feel better after zazen, you don't get angry as often as in the past, the extremes and dramas of your life are less frequent or even disappear for several months... And some people mention some kind of satori experiences. So how is it possible to say there is no profit in Buddhist practice?

I have been experimenting with myself, everyone has been experimenting with their life and you gradually collect all kinds of experiences and you call all these experiences your personal experience. No matter if you are a Buddhist or Christian or atheist, your experience is very important. So based on my experience I can say it is necessary to deny personal profit in Buddhism. Whenever I started to count how much I have progressed or how I became different from the past or from the others thanks to Buddhist practice, it always hit me back like a boomerang. The more you want to profit from Buddhism, the more you harm your practice. It definitely works like that for me and Kodo Sawaki sounded like it works like that for everyone so my experience and his theory (based on his own experience, I am sure) are the same. Only when I stop counting my personal profit from Buddhist practice, I feel as if the Buddhist practice started to make sense. Everything becomes pretty clear, transparent (not heavenly - not some kind of heavenly bliss, rather ordinary life experience when you just simply do something without making things complicated or feeling complicated) and my personal life and problems nicely mingle with the world. I say "my life" but it's only an image, it is not really just my life but in a way your life, too. For example here I am not writing something just for myself, what I am doing has already changed the world. When you knock on the door, it changes the world, when you bow, somebody's life will change. We simply cannot insist we are cut off from other people and the world, so our practice is everyone's practice, everyone's problem, everyone's benefit. This has nothing to do with counting - how many people came to practice today? How many people have been inspired by my blog? No, not like that. I mean even the way we pass a homeless guy on the corner changes millions of things. We could try to count how many things we change like that but that would be wasting time, it is better just to continue our life, moment after moment, bearing in mind we are not alone.

Contradictions in Buddhist philosophy are quite common. Some people will reject such contradictions - no profit on one hand, but on the other hand you feel balanced after zazen. You don't think your neighbor feels the same as he seems pretty angry about something. So how can we say there is no profit for an individual. There is a lot of theories in Buddhism that go against other theories in order to point to reality that is beyond all theories. Theories are necessary to communicate, explain Buddhist experience. We explain what Buddhist experience is, so that a person who is interested knows what to do. Teaching and learning Buddhism involves a lot of pointing, this way, that way, no, not that way. Without this pointing there is no chance we could understand what Buddhism is. Of course, our actual activity is more important than our understanding, but when we understand this or that, it encourages our practice, be it zazen or everyday life.

After all, reality is right in front of us, despite all the contradictions that Buddhism includes. But when we tend to lean backward too much or forward too much, some words can help us, sometimes harsh words like "No profit for you". Sawaki could see that almost all Buddhists around him in 20th century Japan were only interested in personal enlightenment and personal benefits and easy life no matter what others need or feel. He knew that was sick Buddhism - something that has to be corrected. So if we practice to become a better person, and don't care if a neighbor becomes a better person, too, our Buddhist practice is sick and needs to go to hospital. There we must digest a lot of critical, negative words. This sounds like some kind of punishment but doctors don't punish patients, they treat them because they want to help them. We don't have to feel some kind of compassion for our neighbors. But we cannot exclude them from our life, from our practice. We cannot exclude anything.

When I claim that I feel more balanced after zazen, I say it because I am sure you can be balanced like that too. When I use the word enlightenment or satori, I don't want to imply "I have experienced it" - I just want to say that I have no doubt other people are enlightened and experience satori in zazen, too, just like me, as zazen itself is satori. On the other hand, we are not all the same and some people are more deluded and some people are a bit brighter and some people are arrogant and some are modest. It is natural to communicate our feelings and experience. It helps others if we sincerely tell them about our experience, unless we brag or attack the others. We can say " I have never experienced satori" and then we can discuss that. Or we can say " I think I have just experienced satori" and we can discuss that, too. But it has to be sincere. Sometimes we say I really don't know. Next time we say: "Ah, I think I understand!" A Buddhist teacher can learn a lot from the students when they don't lie and they can learn a lot from him or her as long as he or she doesn't lie to them. We should just be all true to each other and then we can discuss Buddhism and then discussing Buddhism is just living Buddhism. Without looking for a personal profit, we are trying to see things as they are, no matter what color they are. Caring about others without ignoring one's own experience and needs makes everyone happy.

No Profit for You or Me

Kodo Sawaki, a Japanese Buddhist teacher who lived in the 20th century and taught Nishijima Roshi, often stressed that there is nothing to gain in practicing zazen or studying Buddhism. He taught that someone who tries to achieve something in Buddhism, be it through zazen or studying the Buddhist philosophy or discussing it or burning incense, makes a mistake if they believe Buddhism gives one a personal profit. According to Sawaki, satori or peaceful mind has nothing to do with Buddhism, if it limited to one person only. In other words, if you believe you can boast a satori or boast peaceful mind, you have misunderstood what Buddhism is.

Most people expect Buddhist practice to give them something they could personally profit from. If they don't believe they can attain enlightenment, they at least believe they can achieve some kind of peaceful mind. As soon as I came across books about Zen, I wanted to attain satori and become a fantastic person without any problems. And a lot of Buddhist teachers are considered enlightened and having a peaceful mind and no problems in their lives and people look up to them and follow them as if they were some kind of Gods. But according to Sawaki, it is ridiculous to brag and say, hey I am enlightened and I have no problems and am detached from the world. For Sawaki, satori is something you don't even realize happening - as you are practicing zazen without trying to attain anything special, satori comes in abundance, over and over again. Kodo Sawaki said: "It’s satori that pulls our practice. We practice, being dragged all over by satori." So there is no reason to make a difference between enlightened and unenlightened people. The only thing that matters is whether you practice zazen or not. Everyone is enlightened, but in Buddhism we learn to realize what we are ( what this enlightenment is ) as we practice zazen over and over again, never coming to an end of this practice.

But is it humanly possible to practice zazen without expecting at least a little bit of difference? Don't we realize we are more balanced, more content after zazen? Yes, I have almost always felt more balanced and more content after zazen, but only because I just practiced without looking for a personal benefit. I remember times when I practiced zazen in order to attain something special and it was almost unbearably difficult to continue like that. Such practice is like nurturing one's personal frustration. YOu practice only to find out that you have not made any progress. But when you give up and only practice in order to practice, immediately you can calm down and sit peacefully. But it is not your personal peace, it is the universal peace that has captured you completely. So to me, zazen itself, practicing zazen here and now is enough, satisfying enough. Also in everyday life, if we hope to feel excellent all the time, energetic all the time, our mind clear all the time and if we compare our ideals about some kind of Buddhist life with our actual life, we will be very frustrated. It is much better to give up these ideals and just act here and now. When there is a gap between me and the present moment, this place, then we can never be satisfied.

What most Buddhists hope for is some kind of great feeling or great mind after practicing for some time, but they can only attain - and it's wonderful to attain it - this place and this moment beyond the duality of myself and the world. So no matter how long you have practiced or how many times you have experienced something you may call satori, you can only be here and now and be the person you have always been - just yourself, content doing something concrete here and now. So what kind of personal profit is it? Once you call it personal profit, my satori, my peace, you already break the whole thing into peaces and become the same ordinary person who only sees the world as something outer.

There is something one can achieve in Buddhism, but that something is not limited to one person only, but is spread throughout the universe. "The universe" sounds too abstract maybe, but I just mean something that is immeasurable and limitless. Something we experience now and cannot see its limits and cannot call it any names. So the thing you realize in Buddhism through practice and philosophy is not something you can measure and say this is mine, not yours. What you realize practicing zazen and studying Buddhist teaching is something that has come from all beings, all things, it is something that has come from you, too. When you wash the dishes and feel balanced, it is not you only, the whole world is balanced. And when you look at a countryside and the countryside looks beautiful, it is not something separate from you, it is beauty that is yours. So whatever we do, whatever we see, it is always originally something complete. And this completeness is satisfying, but once you say I am satisfied by this completeness, you make the completness something incomplete, something objective. It is the same with satori, once you say I have "satori", what kind of satori is it that you can point to and say you have it? Of course, to attain the truth is possible in Buddhism, but the truth is beyond something objective that one can possess while the others cannot. So a person of the truth, someone who has realized the truth has no special qualities or something to show off.

A person of the truth may talk about feeling balanced and peaceful but he or she does not keep that state for himself or herself, but freely gives it up for the others. He or she shares his satori or Buddhist state with others, not "Here, this is my Buddhist state", but "Here, look, this is your Buddhist state. " Everyone experiences the Buddhist state many times a day, but most of us don't realize this. Buddhism teaches us to realize what Buddhist state is and enjoy it when it happens. But whenever it happens, you give it up freely, share it with the whole world. If you don't give it up, it is not a Buddhist state. If you give it up, there is no profit. No profit for me, no profit for you, just the whole world benefits from the state that is beyond personal limits.

Is Philosophy More Than Art?

This nice Yogi guy wrote me a message on a photography forum saying that philosophy is higher than art. I think I know where he is coming from.

Art - especially the Western kind - when we regard it based on some Eastern philosophy, is often considered a mere expression of suffering or desire, while philosophy (at least the Eastern branch) is the field that shows us the way out of suffering or desire. Now I am not saying I agree, just trying to sum up what the yogi probably meant. When we look at the Western art as a whole, we can notice that there are basically two kinds of artists. Of course there are zillions of categories and streams. But the bottom line, as I see it, is that one kind is the happy, confident and sociable artist who enjoys good food, good drinks and good sex. He or she (although I doubt women belong to this particular category very much, as this category seems to be about machos - the alpha masculine dominating heros that so many women adore and want to marry) usually has or had a joyful and successful life and achieved fame and profit quite early in his life. Pablo Picasso, whose art I really adore, is such an example. Or Stravinsky. Their work celebrates barbarian passions, beautiful naked women, dance, tasty, juicy fruit, the bright, shining sea... In Buddhism we call this materialism. It is a kind of one-sided understanding of life and its meaning.
As we can see, being one-sided may lead to wonderful paintins or music, but it is not simple as that, as I will try to explain later on. There is nothing wrong with Picasso's or Stravinsky art and there is no reason why it should be different. I am just trying to explain how a certain understanding of the world leads to different works of art. The other category of artists would be those suffering, deprived, frustrated, anxious guys (or women ) whose life was rather hell than anything else. They found little solace in their art, no matter how wonderful their art was. Take Van Gogh, Franz Kafka, Edward Munch, in Czech literature Bozena Nemcova, a victim of hopelessly dull, insensitive and possessive husband who had little understanding for his wife's impractical, artistic soul. Shostakovich - not only was he crushed by the Soviet regime, he was also crushed by his own depressed mind. Although these artists suffered so much, they gave the world such splendid works, something that shows how one feels when he or she is a thoroughly sincere and sensitive genius in the middle of a cynical, absurd world. In Buddhism, we call this idealism. This has nothing to do with being naive or stupid. On the contrary, it is usually a problem of an excellent mind. Idealism means that the world is perceived as something too dark, too cold, too absurd to cope with. An idealist typically believes there is something or someone high up there that is the source of light, source of love. Some people misunderstand Buddhism and believe there is something in Buddhism that is out of this world that we could achieve. But Buddhism is neither materialistic, nor idealistic.

If we could influence those splendid European or American artists and tell them about Buddhism - not the idealistic kind, of course, we could advise Picasso to bring less women to his bedrooms and drink less wine. I think he would happily ignore us. How about Kafka, Munch and other frustrated artists? I would recommend that they see something meaningful, something beautiful in everyday life activities. I would tell them to see how happy one can be in a single moment of a single day. How much solace and peace we can find in sipping tea. I would ask them to reduce their ideals and soften the criticism with which they see the world around. Should I have been successful, there would be no Kafka, no Munch, no Van Gogh as we know them today. There would have been some pretty normal guys whose work would be either absent or quite mediocre. Right? Would it have been so? The thing is we cannot go back and talk to Franz Kafka. Now if there is a genius living frustrated and unhappy working on a great novel, the thing is not about whether we should make her happy and prevent her from writing that fantastic book. The thing is it is up to me, up to you, up to her, how we deal with our own lives and how we deal with other people's lives. In other words, we can try to help someone, but we cannot make sure everything and everybody will be satisfied. The question I am interested in is not whether philosophy could remove the excellent art as we know it from the current world. The question is whether philosophy can help us be happy and still produce excellent art.

Buddhism teaches that we can find happiness and wisdom when we go beyond the opposites of materialism and idealism. It teaches that if we eat and drink and sleep just enough and lead a sensible life, day after day, we can find some balance and satisfaction despite the crazy things going on in the world. I still believe that although we may find a lot of balance thanks to such an ordinary life, we can still be great artists. Why? Because no matter how much balance we find, it will never be perfect. And no matter how content we may become, we will still want some sex. Unless we are 99 years old! And sex is not always such an easy thing to find. So here - if there is no sex around, we can go and create something instead. Or read Dostoyevsky. Because sooner or later you will be fed up with Dogen... I am kidding. But I mean we Buddhists don't want to lose you, real people in the real world doing real things like writing great novels or shooting films about tigers! I am very optimistic - Buddhism leads to sincere interest in humanity in general. I know some great Buddhists who have practiced Buddhism for decades and who have understood Buddhism thoroughly and they still have to face extremely difficult situations in their lives and they still have plenty of room for love and art and beauty and all kinds of passions in their hearts. Buddhism does not solve suffering by offering a ticket to some kind of mental heaven, a trip to eternal peace. It only - and I don't think it is too little, but actually it is quite a lot - gives us a chance to see our problems from the point where we are completely involved in some kind of activity, being physically as busy as mentally, which means not busy mentally too much, just acting here and now.

Now what about the Eastern art? When it comes to Chinese or Japanese poetry that is based on Buddhist practice and philosophy, it is just another form of Buddhist teaching. This kind of art is neither a mirror of dark, frustrated idealistic mind, nor is it a mirror of hedonistic experience. A Chinese poet - or a Japanese poet, a Buddhist monk, writes about simple everyday experiences. Such a poet writes about the sound of crickets, the empty bowl when he is hungry, his straw hut, walking stick... he or she may write about sadness or loneliness or even about falling in love - but this time not as something that should be thoroughly analyzed, instead the feeling, be it joy or sadness, is accepted and recorded as it is. Here philosophy and art are one thing.

A Chinese guy wrote some time in the 9th century:

How wondrous this, how mysterious!

I carry fuel, I draw water.


Such poetry is far away from the meticulous analysis of the mental world as described by Franz Kafka or composed by Shostakovich. What could be so mysterious about carrying wood or water? Buddhism helps us reveal that what had always seemed ordinary is actually wonderful. Everyday life deserves our thorough attention as it is the only thing we actually experience. Of course, we experience a lot of mental things all the time, but Buddhism reveals that while we are free to imagine and work on anything conceivable within our minds, we are standing in the middle of reality beyond our thinking, beyond our ability to put this or that into categories, and that reality offers at least as much beauty and happiness as we may try to generate through thinking and imagination. It is like bringing our own coffee to a great coffee house and complaining that our coffee is awful. It is like bringing water to the ocean saying there is not enough water in it. Does this mean all the wonderful art that was created within the modern history of Europe and America is just useless crazy crap? No, it is beauty that was created based on some kind of misunderstanding. It is a sincere expression of a sincere mind, trying to reveal what is beautiful, what is meaningful. It is the sincere effort that is valuable and that produces the authentic art, no matter how naive the philosophy is at the beginning of such art. It is a message about real people and their real passions and suffering. It is highly valuable and deserves to be studied and observed. It is an important message about what it is like to be human.

I used to study modern painting a lot and painted a lot. I could not stop thinking about it, dreaming about it and doing it. Then I met Susie, an English teacher from California and found a book about Zen in her apartment in Prague. The book triggered a completely new approach to my life. From then on, for about 10 years or so I was only interested in Zen, no matter what it was or no matter how much I misunderstood what it was. I went to a Zen center in the USA and never painted again. Actually, I once or twice tried to paint, but it was like trying to start an engine without any fuel. There was no real motivation. I had to force myself to paint, so it didn't work. Instead I found myself writing a kind of Chinese style poetry. I had realized that the most important thing is one's everyday life, all those little everyday experiences. To me, painting used to be a way how to create beauty in a world that is not beautiful enough. This time I found the world beautiful enough and there was nothing I could add to its beauty. So I could only describe what I saw in front of me, writing poems about clouds, trees, fields, ponds, and girls. Just like the Chinese guys or maybe just imitating what those monks wrote:

sitting under an apple tree
I watch it
dance in the wind...


Here, no matter how egoistic, how selfish and annoying I actually am in my real life, I would like to reduce myself to a mere tool through which the real beautiful world is expressed. There is no need to explain the beauty, no need to say why I am lonely, why I want to hug someone. You just say it. Just say what is happening.


On the other hand, Brad Warner, a Buddhist teacher who used to be a punk rock bass guitar player is still a punk rock bass guitar player. I doubt he ever wrote a single "Chinese" or "Zen" poem. To him, Zen is also just a real, everyday life. Just like to me. But to him, punk rock is his everyday life, so now as a Buddhist, punk rock is still his everyday life! I can't imagine Brad writing a poem. Actually, yes, I can imagine Brad's poetry about hairy punk drummers and their puke at the toilet. But that's just Brad. I like that he is just what he is. To hell with pretension. It is only worth writing about apple trees in the wind if you have really experienced apple trees dancing in the wind. There is a difference between writing about something that sounds like Chinese poetry and writing about something that has penetrated your heart completely. So we have punk rock as one example of Buddhist art and Chinese kind of poetry as another example.
So we can see that Buddhism shows the beauty of ordinary things like grass, a cup of tea, a cold shower, but also the ordinary things that belong to the real modern world that those Chinese monks 1200 years ago had no idea about. Including the sound of electric guitars. So what seemed ordinary before practicing Buddhism may seem wonderful after it.


What is the role of "I" in Buddhism? How can "I" help me create something valuable? Should I try to get rid of "self"? Would it make me a genius? But it is my self, it is me, it is "I" that makes me cry, that makes me laugh, that makes me try to write this essay. There is no need to get rid of me, myself, self or I or whatever you call that. It is just that Buddhist practice helps "me" or "you" see what has been long ignored because "I" or "you" have been too busy dealing with "you" or "me" forgetting just what is real. We need some "I" or some of "you" or some of "her". Without these distinctions we could simply all commit suicide, or stop eating, drinking, urinating. Why deny "myself"? I have to sleep, no matter what. I have to eat. I love. I hate. The problem is that the modern world or civilization as such or whatever you call it is almost all about myself against you. I am better than you. You are sexier than her. So I go crazy. So I shoot him. Instead of these dramatic distinctions or extreme loneliness or extreme selfishness we could just focus on everyday actions and notice how wonderful some people are and notice that the best we can do for those who are not so wonderful is to be at least a little bit wonderful ourselves.

How much ego did Picasso need to become such a brilliant painter? How about Kafka? Stravinsky? I don't know how much ego Van Gogh or Kafka needed, but they were telling the truth. They both precisely recorded what was going on in their heart, mind, imagination. They were so great because they didn't lie at all. There are tons of books full of lies and pretension. There are infinite miles of canvas that is covered in paint. But there is not a single thing that would be true about them. You can paint anything on a piece of canvas so what makes a painting true? What makes a symphony true? What makes a photograph true? As for photography, that is a tough one. Really tough. Because we could say that whatever you photograph, it is something real in front of you so you cannot go wrong. When you write a poem or paint something, you can easily pretend you feel something that you actually don't feel at all. But in the end, it is the same for photography. There are people who just take photographs having fun. Good for them. There are people who paint flowers and have fun. Good for them. There is Madonna and Like a Virgin. Good for both of them. But when it comes to art, there is something more. Pablo Picasso, no matter how awful or great he was as a real person, used his ego completely in order to create something so natural, so fluent, so bright that it seems it has been created by the universe itself. I don't think Leonardo painted Mona Lisa. If I believed in God, I would claim that only God could paint something so absolutely brilliant. But I don't believe in God so I think it was the universe itself that created Mona Lisa. Leonardo just served as a tool. A genius to me is someone who is not in the way when the universe feels like doing something interesting in art. In other words, an artist has to respect the universal laws completely. Johann Sebastian Bach or Pablo Picasso didn't imitate God or the universe. Although Bach said he wanted to compose something similar to what you may hear in heaven when you get there. But what Bach composed is heavenly - it is heavenly, or say ideally complete, just like the universe itself. Is there a speck of dust lacking in the universe? No. Is there a note missing in Bach's music? No. So there. There is nothing artificial about Bach or Picasso or Leonardo or Beethoven. That's why I would call their art "true" even if it is not verbal. You make a film about a couple who are about to divorce but from the beginning to the end you don't believe it is true. You look at a painting in a gallery and you have no idea why the heck someone cared to paint it at all. You want to say: No, this is not true! People who are interested in the truth, no matter how harsh it sounds, will call it a kitch. A true piece of art is really valuable for a Buddhist because it is something honest, sincere, a true story. A true story is more valuable in Buddhism than thousands of complex Buddhist sutras. So Kafka may be a source of truth for you, but it will probably not give you a hint how to make your life less unbearable. That's the job of Buddhist philosophy. Both is important. To notice what people really go through and study how one may overcome his or her difficulties.

Is the Truth Complete?

Here is a bit of GENJO KOAN, a chapter from master Dogen's Shobogenzo, in Mike Luetchford's modern interpretation:


When we feel confident that we understand reality, in fact we are far from it.
When we are actually one with reality, we often feel that something is missing.

I came across some discussions on the net about what these ideas of master Dogen might mean and here is my take on what they probably mean:


When we think we understand the truth, we are only on the intellectual level, and there, in the midst of our ideas, we miss the target.

When we are one with the truth, we can't see the whole of it. Ideally, the truth is something complete, nothing is missing, but we can never find a point of view that would provide this complete view of things. So instead of trying to find the perfect point of view, we just let it be and in this moment, just acting, we are one with reality, but beyond the ideal of completeness. The finality or definition of the truth is again something intellectual, it is something we only imagine. The truth, actually, is something we don't imagine, it is just here and now, and here and now, it doesn't seem complete to a person being one with it. So a person who is one with the truth cannot find something complete, cannot show something complete to the others.

In Buddhism we sometimes naively expect that one day we will see things completely and finally. At last everything will be clear and we will be enlightened. But people of the truth cannot experience something this rigid. Instead they experience something that is impossible to stop or grasp or limit with words.

We could also give an example of a person working in the garden, someone who has never heard of Buddhism. To a naive Buddhist, this person, focusing on trimming some bushes, is far from buddhahood, far from awakening. But such a person, just simply cutting the twigs is one with the truth. There is no celebration of the person's awakening. No gods are coming to greet the person and bow in front of him or her. There is just trimming, cutting here and now. The gardener cannot notice anything special or grand or worth mentioning. What did you do in the afternoon? I just trimmed some bushes. And now I am going to the pub to drink some beer. My husband is already waiting there for me.

When we look at a statue of Buddha, we see something splendid, someone splendid, noble sitting in a beautiful posture. But to Buddha, it is just sitting, nothing else. Just a simple action in the present. No celebration is necessary. Yet in Buddhist literature, awakening or sitting in Buddha's posture is often celebrated. However, it is rather the celebration that seems splendid and complete. The thing being celebrated is usually forgotten in all the marvelous display of colors and lights.

iLife

There were times in my life when I worried too much. I worried so much that I almost wanted to commit suicide. I remember when I was eighteen and after graduating from high school I saw no future for myself - it was this dark communist totalitarian regime atmosphere in the Czech Republic and the society gave me all signals that they didn't need me, unless I was willing to do some manual work, or office work, but I was so intellectual and wanted to be an artist or something. Anyway, later,after having survived these dark times new freedom and democracy arrived in our country and with it lots of interesting people from the West with interesting books about all kinds of things that had been banned or not available in our communist libraries and bookshops. So I learned about Zen a bit from a couple of books, and also learned it was something one can practice in some kind of centers in the West.

For some complicated reasons (which I don't want to explain now) after spending several months in a Zen center in Rhode Island, I stopped worrying, I mean totally. I had no worries. I was only interested in sex with young beautiful girls and drinking beer and having fun. I was the opposite of the dark, depressed, serious, would-be philosopher and artist I had been at high school. This time I was a free, irresponsible girl-chasing maverick. And I was successful in chasing girls. I am not saying this to support this lifestyle - just it was what happened. And I should add that to a certain degree the Zen practice I had done in the American center and Ikkyu's poems (you can have a look at some of them in one of my other posts or look up some on the internet) had a lot to do with my independent, no worries life.

Later there were some changes in my life and I worried again. I fell in love and my freedom and fun was over. As you know, when you fall in love, you see things through these rose-colored spectacles - everything, even the dullest things are exciting - but the problem is that it can't last forever and if you can keep the relationship running even after the end of rosy days and nights, you may go back to reality and see things soberly, but I didn't keep the relationship running and my wife left. So I worried for about a year. Then more women appeared and I wanted to succeed in having a working relationship in which I usually failed sooner or later so more worries. And more worries. I also worried for some time because my relationships with my Buddhist teachers didn't work very well. I worried about what kind of Buddhist I was. It didn't seem my practice and relationship with teachers made sense. But hey, things always change and what you think will never end does end and I came across Brad Warner's Hardcore Zen and I stopped worrying. Thanks to Brad I stopped worrying if my Buddhism was good enough or not and just returned to my everyday life. So no worries. And then I met Mike Luetchford and soon it was clear to me that at last I had found a teacher I can relate to, I can really learn from, spend some time with, study Buddhist philosophy with him etc. So it was a beginning of a new life and a new opportunity to study and practice Buddhism.

For most of us everyday life is an array of troubles and worries. Thats' why I love zazen. Because in zazen I am hardly ever dissatisfied. In my experience, zazen is something you just do, simply, and there is nothing to worry about. Maybe I am lucky that I can sit in half lotus for half an hour without pain, but I did use to suffer sitting in half lotus - so yes, zazen hasn't always been simple for me, physically not easy, and mentally - mostly ok, I sometimes do think too much during zazen, but mostly it is just zazen- thinking and not thinking.

When I was painting as a young man, or making music, I tried to achieve something finished, perfect. I was working on a painting for several months until I found that last tiny little spot that was too dark or too blue , I corrected it and all of a sudden what I saw in front of me was perfect. I don't care how critics would see it, but to me it was achieved, finished, I knew what I wanted to achieve and when I found what I had been looking for, I was relieved and happy. But such things are impossible to do in everyday life, at work, with other people, in relationships, you can never achieve such flawless states. Life, unlike Da Vinci's Mona LIsa, is not a masterpiece. Not even Zen masters' lives are masterpieces. Not even a single day of a single Zen master is a masterpiece without mistakes. But essentially, there is something perfect about everyone's life, all the time. And this something perfect is the essential quality of zazen. It is present in all kinds of situations and states we go through. So even if we worry, we can relax because we are just a part of something perfect.

Even if we doubt that we are in the middle of perfection, zazen says to us: It is ok, don't you see? It is ok. The universe is an ok place, why worry, the universe takes care of you, leave it be what it is, let it grab you and just follow, don't resist.

Don't resist, that's it. We can accept things as they are. At least at this moment. Even if something horrible happened in the past, is the present moment still horrible? Just now is never something we cannot cope with. But when we look at it subjectively, when we have a personal attitude, for example thinking about something horrible that happened in the past, we cannot help it - we perceive reality as something horrible. But the truth itself, the world beyond subject and object, is not something we could judge. It is perfect as it is. So why worry. But it is human to worry so why worry if we worry? Just worry. But if we worry too much, I think Kodo Sawaki has some nice words for us that we can study a bit:

"What a shame to have been born a human being and to spend your whole life worrying. You should reach the point where you can be happy to have been born a human."

It is possible to be happy to have been born a human, no matter how many problems we face, only if we let go of our body and mind. This sounds like something only a very advanced yogi can achieve. Let go of body - you mean like dissapear or fly or say good bye to your body and leave the room like a spirit? And let go of mind - again, leave it as if it was a kind of mass you leave in the room and go to the pub, without your mind? No, letting go of body and mind is just fully participate in the present, beyond subject and object, beyond thinking and no thinking, beyond this is my body and that is your body and here is a table... Beyond all that - just doing something now, without stressing something mine as opposed to yours.

Everyone will worry at times, but as Buddhists we could make good use of the experience when subject and object disappear and only something beyond catergories is present, a Buddhist state. We can make use of this both in times of leisure and times of suffering. And we don't have to feel bad about being personal at times - we don't have to drop the "I" from our sentences or thoughts. I feel good. I feel bad. I I like bananas. I don't like goulash.... Whatever. But most people just put this I in front of everything. They are not leading a life, they are leading an I-life. Or maybe for marketing reasons, they are leading an iLife. So back to myself, I should address myself: Do I want to lead an iLife? No, thanks. Just Life is enough.

Hello again!

Hello again! I haven't posted anything for a while and now it's time to write something again. First off, I haven't written anything recently as I was busy - besides other things - studying different Buddhist texts. So I just wanted to let all potential readers know that I am still practicing and studying Buddhism, just I focus more on studying than writing and also try to focus on everyday life rather than theories, but this has always been my weak point. One of few activities I can do without spacing out is driving. Or teaching English - there is no room for spacing out when there is eighteen kids sitting in front of you waiting for your instructions or orders.

Anyway, why worry. Why worry too much, it is going to be my next post.

Real Mike

After a long break, I am back trying to post something. As usual, I am very active in summer, when it comes to studying Buddhism and writing about it. I have a lot of time in summer, two months of vacation. So I can go cycling, hiking, swimming and the relaxed mind I achieve by these activities helps me fully concentrate on studying Buddhist philosophy. Mike Luetchford was in the Czech Republic for several weeks in July and as always, it was very fruitful experience for me, and hopefully, for others, too. I had the chance to spend a few days with him privately at a weekend house in the country and learn about him informally and casually. This experience - spending private time with Mike - opened my eyes to what Mike is in fact - a human being. Of course, I had known even before he is not superhuman but still, the idea that he is a Buddhist master, had been too overwhelming for me. It had been difficult to see him as an ordinary person, although theoretically I knew he was. But it was only a theory because I'd often not felt quite relaxed in his presence until I experienced some personal and private things with him at the weekend house and there was nowhere to escape. So gradually, at the weekend house, as we ate, drank (tea or coffee or juice), told stories, watched movies, played piano and trumpet, sat in front of the fireplace, visited a museum, went cycling etc., only gradually my strange feeling that I am there with a very special person gave way to something better - being just myself spending time with someone who was somehow becoming my friend, things just got more and more relaxed and friendly, that's all.

I think I noticed and learned one important thing, or this is one of those things I learned, but for me it was a nice discovery. Before the holidays I somehow thought Mike - the way he is and speaks and acts - represents Buddhism. Maybe that's what made me nervous before. You know, all of Buddhism right in front of you may be scary! But at the weekend house I gradually realised that Mike does not represent Buddhism. He represents just himself. But representing just himself represents Buddhism. Different, isn't it?

So everyone who is just himself or herself at this moment, represents Buddhism. Scary, isn't it? No, this is the least scary thing about Buddhism, but still, very difficult to believe for most people. Just being myself is enough? No special qualities are necessary? Anyway, I will post more tomorrow or some other time. I have written a lot of texts lately, but almost all of them are in Czech. But at least I will post sometime what those articles in Czech are about. Just brief versions.