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COOMBS.ANU.EDU.AU The document's ftp filename and the full directory path are given in the coombspapers top level INDEX file. date of the document's last update/modification {18/09/93} This file is the work of Stan Rosenthal. It has been placed here, with his kind permission, by Bill Fear. The author has asked that no hard copies, ie. paper copies, are made. Stan Rosenthal may be contacted at 44 High street, St. Davids, Pembrokeshire, Dyfed, Wales, UK. Bill Fear may be contacted at 29 Blackweir Terrace, Cathays, Cardiff, South Glamorgan, Wales, UK. email fear@thor.cf.ac.uk. Please use email as first method of contact, if possible. Messages can be sent to Stan Rosenthal via the above email address - they will be forwarded on in person by myself. ..............................Beginning of file................................. 2 of 10 We are taught that we should look both to nature and to our fellow beings in order to learn, and to keep in touch with the world at large, rather than cutting ourselves off by leading a life which is overly 'spiritual', or which denies us our essential humanity. We are told that by 'living in the world' (not shutting ourselves away) we will often discover that there is a viewpoint other than our own, and that may not be in opposition to our own, but a complementary opposite. It is said that when we can see this complementary nature of opposites, 'we have the ability to be in harmony with all people and all things'. Sometimes this discovery of complementary opposites can involve performing an action opposite to the one we might otherwise perform, and sometimes it will mean apparently 'doing nothing'...... Ryokan, the Zen poet, was asked to speak with his nephew, whose father, Ryokan's brother, believed the young man to be wayward. Ryokan visited his brother's home but said no word of reprimand to the young man, although he could see that his brother was accurate in his perception. The next morning Ryokan was too stiff to bend over and tie his sandals. He called to his nephew, and asked him to help. The young man went to his uncle's assistance, and as he was stooping down to help the old man, he felt a drop of water fall on his head. Looking up, he saw that the old man was looking at him sorrowfully, and was crying. From that day the young man changed his behaviour. There was of course no guarantee that Ryokan's nephew would have responded positively to his uncle's strategy. But it was undoubtedly the fact that the old man did not initially rebuke his nephew for his misdemeanours that enabled the young man to relate and be so responsive to his tears. Whether Ryokan contrived the situation or not is unimportant, for what the story illustrates above all else is that the old poet knew 'when not to act'. By not rebuking the young man, as others had presumably already done, the old man enabled his nephew to relate to him differently from how he had related to others. It was therefore by seeing the total situation that Ryokan allowed his nephew to relate to him. This in turn enabled the youg man to break the pattern

of his behaviour. We can assume that this pattern was caused by obstinacy on his part, and a need for him to show his parents that he could 'be his own person'. By showing he cared, but not condemning him for his wayward behaviour, his uncle allowed the young man to feel that he had made his own decision to change. We need to accept that in having respect for nature, and by not separating ourselves from it, we might act in a manner which others would initially think of as foolish. A particularly good illustration of this is the story of Chiyo, a young lady who later became quite famous through her example..... A wealthy but sceptical young man, hearing of Chiyo's great virtue and Zen manner, went to visit her at her home early one morning. She was not at home. Whilst he was waiting for her to return, the overgrown well in her garden caught his attention. He was surprised that she had not cut back the growth to give her better access to the well. When he saw her approaching, carrying a bucket of water from her neighbour's well, he called out to her, "Show me the spirit of your Zen." Chiyo replied with the now famous haiku, "The morning glory entwines the bamboo pole. I beg for water." In other instances, we should perhaps think of the situation from a viewpoint we do not usually have, thus expanding our range of awareness..... "Thank the beggar when you fill his bowl, for he has provided the opportunity for you to clear your conscience a little." (Sei-Setsu, sometime master of Engakuji) Even when taking a stroll beside the river, the opportunity presents itself to cease our 'inward thinking' and to 'see outside of ourselves', simply by observing nature..... "On the river bank, dead grasses covered in frost echo my footsteps." (Suiteki) At the root of relatedness is the wish to be at one with the beauty which surrounds us. But to appreciate that it exists we must first be aware that it exists. We can do this by expanding our range of awareness to include what might be called 'ordinary things'. First we must learn to see, then to identify what is seen and to acknowledge its existence. Then we can act upon it to make real our own potential. It was with these things in mind that Suiteki replied to a novice who wrote asking if it is important to bow to the 'safu' (cushion) before using it for meditation, 'It is not bowing which is important, It is not bowing which is important.' The Zen concept of harmony is not particularly easy to grasp, and the difficulty for us is quite often that many aspects of our own 'civilization' encourage antagonism, rather than its opposite, 'synergism', (or 'synergy') this being the basis of all harmonious action.

Although somewhat difficult to grasp initially, as an introduction, it is worth considering this concept from its origins in Taoism, where an action which is in harmony with nature is described as being performed with 'wu wei'. It is necessary first to understand that it is not possible to 'deliberately' act with wu wei; we can only learn to 'allow it to occur of itself', which means that we need to stop ourselves from preventing its occurrence. The analogy of water is often used to describe wu wei, as illustrated by Ishida..... "When water running down the side of a mountain is blocked by a stone in its path, it builds up behind that stone, filling and conforming to the space available. When that space is filled, the water washes over or around the stone. The water does not contrive to do this, nor to continue in its downward direction; in fact, by filling the space behind the stone, it may even 'flow upwards in order to flow down'. It does not contrive; it is incapable of contriving, and nor does nature contrive on behalf of water. Although, or perhaps because water is the most adaptive of all the elements, it possesses wu wei in the greatest abundance, and in acting without motive, acts with wu wei." All of this is to say that water responds naturally to its enviroment, and to act with wu wei, this is all we need to do. Whilst developing an understanding of wu wei may be difficult, acting with wu wei is simplicity or naturalness itself, even though it may not be easy to accomplish, for in order to act with wu wei, we must remove that which stands in its way. The barriers to acting with wu wei are many, but the most usual are ego (the wish to do what we want to do, and to have others conform to what we want); and 'conditioning' (to behave in a manner in which we have been 'trained'). To overcome these barriers we must 'let go' of the ego, and of our 'conditioned selves'. Then we can act with wu wei, which is to perceive and accept situations as they are, and respond to them harmoniously. So is is that Chiyo actually provided her visitor with an example of wu wei when she explained to him that she preferred to beg for water rather than damage the short-lived plants in her garden. Zen teachers quite often use this technique of providing an example, and most of them have a definite ability to 'teach by experience'. Whilst this is not unique to Zen, the manner in which this 'heuristic' method is used by such teachers is somewhat unusual, for in 'providing learning', the Zen teacher might actually provide the experience for the student, but does not always explain to the student what he or she has learnt through that experience. Rather, the teacher might discuss what has occurred, enabling the student to 'discover the principle' as part of what is sometimes referred to as 'the gestalt process'. As the story told by Dr. Barnes-Wallis illustrates well, principles learnt (or 'discovered') in this way are seldom forgotten..... Dr. Barnes-Wallis, the famous inventor, was asked if there was any person whom he felt had helped him more than any other. He replied that his geometry teacher was such a person. The interviewer then asked what the teacher had taught him, and Dr. Barnes-Wallis explained how he had 'discovered' the mathematical value of 'pye' when the teacher provided each boy in his class with a tin can of different diameter, a piece of string and a ruler, asking them to calulate the ratio (mathematical relationship) of the radius of their tin can to its circumference. When each boy had done this, the teacher explained that this relational value is known as 'pye'. Lao Tzu is speaking of relatedness when he says, "When considering any thing,

do not lose its opposite. When thinking of the finite, do not forget infinity." In another verse, Lao Tzu returns to the same concept, this time providing practical examples. In his lines on the utility of non-existences, he tells us, "Though thirty spokes may form the wheel, it is the hole within the hub which gives the wheel utility. It is not the pot the potter throws which gives the pot its usefulness, but the space within the shape, from which the pot is made. Without a door, the room cannot be entered; without windows it is dark. Such is the utility of non-existence." What Lao Tzu is telling us here is that we should not look only at the obvious, but should seek to discover that which is not so obvious. He is also saying that it is not only the physical or 'material' which is significant, but (very often) that which cannot be seen because, although it is there, it is there as a non-existent (non-physical) entity. Whilst it is not difficult to realise the significance of 'that which is not there', namely empty space, to the potter or sculptor, a lttle deeper thought illustrates its significance in many other pursuits. We need look no further than the martial arts for proof of this. In Judo for example, the Judoki avoids being thrown by creating a space between himself and his opponent, and throws his opponent by closing the space between them (making body-contact). Similarly, any Kendo player soon learns to appreciate that his art is as much to do with the use of space (and the 'holes' we make in space when we move) as it is to do with wielding his sword. In the graphic arts such as drawing and painting, the use of space (the non-existent) is of course of prime importance, since a line is a device for dividing space and forming it into 'existent' shapes. A painting extends this concept by incorporating colour, the edge of a a colour being used to mark the boundary between a space and a solid mass which exists within it. If the painter practices 'relatedness', he or she soon becomes aware of this. Further experience then teaches the painter that the relationship between colours and shapes evokes a particular 'feeling' or imagery, and that the relationship of a new colour when laid beside an existing one, seems to change the colour of the previously painted area. The work of the painter improves as his or her awareness increases. This is to say that the ability to relate to 'the outside world' (that is, to those things which exist outside of our own thoughts, feelings and emotions) is itself related to our ability to express those thoughts, feelings and emotions. Thus, in Zen terms at least, our ability to relate increases our ability to express ourselves. Whilst relatedness has already been described as being of great importance in terms of retaining and developing our relationship with 'the world at large', we can now see that the Zen view also contains the concept that by developing our ability to relate, we also aid our own self-development.

It is as much for the sake of our own development as for the good of society that we are told, with regard to our relationships to others, to 'have compassion for all sentient beings, causing them no neeedless hurt, nor unnecessary harm'. It is a Zen belief that since all sentient beings are part of the same 'world', if we act in a manner which causes needless hurt or unnecessary harm to others, we not only cause that hurt or harm to them, but to the world at large, and that since the world at large is our environment, we thereby damage ourselves. The benefits of compassion are therefore considered to be individual (personal) and social. In Zen, this is considered to be sufficient reason to teach that we should have compassion, and it is probably for the same reason (i.e. that compassion is so effective) that whilst Zen is a very disciplined philosophy, it is noted for its emphasis on compassion. The Zen poet Ryokan's manner of acting compassionately has already been described, and a famous verse of his reads, "Oh that my robe were wide enough to give comfort to all those who suffer in this floating world." It is of course far easier to feel compassion for someone who is obviously suffering, but we can also be compassionate to (say) a thief. To help such a person realise that stealing may be unnecesary is an act of compassion..... A teacher went out visiting, and when he returned to his home he disturbed a thief who was just leaving with a bundle of clothes he had stolen. The thief said, "I suppose you are going to try and stop me stealing these clothes from you. I should warn you, I won't give them up easily." The teacher then said, "There is no need for you to return them, and there is no need for me to take them back by force. Yet I can still prevent you from stealing them." The intruder looked at him in a puzzled manner, and the teacher continued, "You have not taken anything which I would sorely miss, so that which you have taken I give you as a gift in order to prevent you from being a thief." As well as illustrating that it is possible to be compassionate even to someone who would 'harm' us, this story also shows that it is possible to reduce even the 'hurt' within oneself by acting with compassion to someone who acts towards us in a manner which pays no heed to our feelings. By acting in this way we change the very nature of the situation by changing our attitude towards it. There is prevents powerful and very employed however another aspect to acting in this manner. It is that it us from developing bitterness, which is considered to be a very inhibitor of human development. Bitterness and hatred are destructive 'energy consuming', and the energy they use cannot therefore be for creative purposes. This is what Lao Tzu means when he writes,

"Only he who is compassionate can show true bravery, and in defending, show great strength. Compassion is the means by which mankind may be guarded and saved,

for heaven arms with compassion, those whom it would not see destroyed." There are many of Lao Tzu's statements which seem at first reading to tell us that the wise person 'does not care' about human suffering. One such aphorism reads, "Even when he seems to act in a manner kind or benevolent, the sage is not acting with such intent, for he is amoral and indifferent." However, Lao Tzu is not saying that the sage does not care, but that when he performs a compassionate act he does so simply because it is his nature to do so, rather than out of any sense of morality or hope of reward. In Zen, the concept of compassion extends to those situations which are quite commonly competitive. We are taught that when there is no need to compete, we should not turn the situation into a competition, for to do so is to create a win/lose situation. If one person wins, another person loses. By creating a loser in order to feed our own ego, we could be causing needless hurt or unnecessary harm to the other person, especially if that person is not competitive by nature, and even more so if he or she is vulnerable to such pressures. It may be very difficult, or even impossible to go though life without causing any hurt or harm at all. For example, we may kill an animal or plant for food as a necessity of life; and our parents may be sad when we leave home to start out on our own, even though they know logically that it is a natural occurrence. In neither case does this mean that the hurt is caused deliberately, but equally, it would be unrealistic to believe that it did not occur at all. We must not delude ourselves into believing that the end (or the reason) justifies the means. It is said that, "When giving food to a starving person, we should do so in a manner which does not cause them to feel as if they are begging." Similarly, if we are truly compassionate, when nursing someone through an illness, we will ensure that they are not made to feel more helpless, but will increase their feeling of self-worth. The story of Kashin illustrates this. Kashin was only fourteen, and studying for academic examinations when her divorced father (with whom she lived) was taken seriously ill. The physicians told her that they had done all they could for him, but that he was terminally ill. Believing that her education was important for her future, her father told her that she should not miss her studies. However, each morning, before going to school, Kashin prepared a meal for him and checked that he was comfortable in bed, asking him before she left, if he could help her with a small problem she had with her studies. When she returned home in the evening he had usually thought about the problem, and during the evening meal she would sit on his bed whilst he told her his solution to the problem she had described to him. One evening some weeks later, whilst tidying the house, Kashin found an incomplete manuscript which her father had written some time before. The next morning she showed it to him, and he told her that he had never completed the story. She left the manuscript beside his bed, and whilst her father dozed, placed writing materials with it before leaving for school.

When she returned home, just as she entered the house, she heard her father call her name. His voice seemed a little stronger. She went to his room, and her father, although still weak, was sitting up in his bed. He asked her to sit down, and when she had done so, he pulled the manuscript from under his pillow and showed it to her. Kashin saw that he had written more that day. She remarked upon this, and her father said that it was indeed fortunate that by chance, he had found some writing materials close by his bed. Kashin's father did finish his story, and lived for many years longer than the doctors had predicted, becoming a well-known teacher in his region. He never forgot his debt to Kashin, (which means 'the spirit of blossoming'), and (sometimes to her embarassment) used the story of how she had helped him, as an example for his students. In Zen Buddhism it is sometimes said that 'compassion is the essence of Buddha-nature', and one of the most famous koan discusses this, and also highlights an important aspect of 'the human condition'..... The teacher Joshu was asked by a student, "Does a dog have Buddha nature ?", to which Joshu replied, "Mu !" Commenting on this many years later, the teacher Ekai (also known as Mumon) wrote, 'The dog, and the Buddha nature. Jushu's answer is perfect and final. When you can say whether it has it or not, you will be walking hand in hand with the patriarchs.' Joshu's reply 'mu', can mean 'no' or 'nothing'. In this instance 'mu' does not mean that a dog cannot have Buddha nature, but that the question itself is a 'nothing' question (that is, a question without profit, since no answer is profitable). The implication here is that although all animals are sentient beings (they have feelings) we do not know if they have free will, but may simply live by responding to environmental stimuli. Many people who have dogs or cats as pets will claim that their pet can recognise when its owner feels sad, and will then approach in a comforting way. We might ask whether this is not a compassionate act, and the answer could in one sense be that it is, for the animal might well be responding to the sadness of its 'owner'. In another sense though, the answer would be that it is not, for the animal cannot be said with certainty to choose to be compassionate. We have only to think of a cat, from which we might gain considerable comfort if it snuggles into our lap and purrs when we are feeling sad. To understand such a feeling as comfort with regard to compassion, we need to ask whether the comfort we feel is due to a compassionate act on the part of the cat, or simply our own physiological response to its warmth, movement and sound. This is not to deny what we feel, but only to illustrate that what appears to be a compassionate act might be in fact a selfish action on the part of the cat, who may simply be responding to its own need to be stroked. There are many situations where an act which is of itself compassionate is in reality carried out for 'selfish' reasons, in that the person who performs the act does so knowing that he or she 'feels good' as a result of having performed that act. This does not mean that the act itself is wrong, nor that we should

stop ourselves from performing such acts. What it does mean is that we should accept the reality of our motives, and not delude ourselves into believing that an act which has a hedonistic or subjectively pleasurable basis is performed for altruistic reasons. One of the major attributes of any Zen teacher is the ability to relate to the situation and experience of the student. By relating primarily to the needs of the student, and by calling upon his own experience, the teacher rapidly gains insight into the motivation of the student, and employs an appropriate 'strategy' or 'medium' through which the student may learn. There is a Zen story which illustrates this ability, and which also provides an example of the relationship between right motive, non-competitiveness, compassion and relatedness to others. The story describes how a teacher taught a young man to examine, re-appraise and change his own attitude to all of these. In this case the teacher used as a medium, the ancient Chinese board game known as 'Go'..... A wealthy young man who was dissatisfied with his life went to a Zen teacher in order to 'make life more meaningful'. He told the teacher that he had all the material things he needed, and that even though there was a young lady whom he loved and who loved him, his life was still 'empty'. The teacher asked him about his interests, and the young man replied that he practiced Kendo (the way of the sword) and played Go in order to improve his strategy and tactics. The teacher then said that he would be able to speak to the young man at length a short time later, and suggested that he might like to pass the time fruitfully by playing Go with an old monk who lived at the school, saying that the monk was an exceptional player, and that the young man might learn some new moves by playing with him. The young man was keen to test his skill against anyone, and readily agreed. The teacher told him that he might need to be patient because the monk was very old, and liked to take his time before making a move. Thinking that he might win the contest easily, the young man said that he understood the situation, and would be happy to play with the old man. As they walked through the garden to the monk's quarters the teacher told the visitor many stories about the monk, explaining that the old man had lived a very worthwhile life, devoting his time to helping others, and that he was now reaping his reward by being allowed to sleep late,and being excused from the day-to-day duties with which a monk would usually be engaged. After introducing the young man and the monk to each other the teacher withdrew. The two Go players sat down opposite each other and began to play. The young man soon began to feel that he could beat the monk quite easily, but knowing that it would be a little while before the teacher returned, decided to 'string-out' the game, hoping that he might learn at least one new strategy in the process. However, the monk was not to be beaten that easily, and each time the young man believed that he was making a winning move, the older man responded in a way which his opponent could not fathom. Suddenly the teacher reappeared. This time though he was quite irate. He told the two players that they must finish their game quickly, and then he withdrew again. The game continued throughout the evening, the teacher returning more and more frequently, his temper increasing.

Eventually he said to the two players that he would watch their game, and in order to provide an incentive, he would kill the loser. He drew a sword from within the folds of his gown, and the young man could see from the fluidity of the teacher's movement that he was an expert in the use of the sword. Within a few moments though, it seemed to the young man that his opponent had become more unnerved than he, because the old monk began to make some serious mistakes. Seeing his opportunity to begin a certain winning sequence of moves, the young man was just about to take his turn when he looked at the face of his aged opponent and was reminded of the stories the teacher had told him of the good works done by the monk during his long life. For the first time in his life the young man was filled with compassion. Instead of placing his Go stone where he would be sure to win, he hovered, and moved his hand to place it in a place where he would lose the game, and so lose his life. As the young man's hand moved towards the board, the teacher brought down his sword with a mighty stroke, cutting the board in two, and scattering the Go pieces across the room. Whether the teacher would have carried out his threat is unknown to us (although it is somewhat unlikely). What is important though is that the young man must have really had a compassionate nature, but had never discovered it, since he had not previously been taught how to relate to others. The teacher obviously recognised this, and using his own experience of human nature, enabled the young man to discover his own 'inner nature' for himself. .................................End of file................................... 2 of 10