This blog hosts articles contributed by members of the Chicago Zen Center. For news about events at the Center and in Chicago, please visit our Bodhisattva on the Dashboard… or What I really learned about Zen practice in Viet Nam
by Barth Wright
Kristin and I study monkeys, and Viet Nam is host to some of the most endangered of the bunch. Many of them eat primarily leaves and are truly extraordinary looking. If you google “douc langur” you’ll see what I mean. Given our distance from the CZC I thought that along with being scientifically valuable, a trip to Viet Nam – ideally a Buddhist country – would help me gain greater focus and insight, and I think this may turn out to be the case, but not in the way I expected.
For some initial background, upon returning from our first trip to Viet Nam I sat down to write an article for the CZC newsletter. Wanting to make it as uplifting as possible, I began to put together a tale concerning the little Kwan Yin figures that one often sees in cabs in and around Hanoi. I wanted to share with the Sangha the way in which the bodhisattvic ideal permeates the country, even though on the surface it appears to be just as delusional as any other place. After revisiting this draft, and after two more trips to Hanoi and outlying provinces, I think I have a clearer view of what was really gained from visiting and developing friendships in Viet Nam.
What I’ve come to realize is the fact that these little figures act much like the Jesus on the dashboard of cars in the United States. They are good luck charms. Much like rubbing the belly of a Hotai, these figures are thought to provide protection and prosperity. While they may do this to some degree, they became emblematic of what Buddhism is in Buddhist countries and what it has the potential to be in the West. Buddhism to many of the young scientists that we know is “what your parents do”. To many of these young people the temples are stagnant. They are places where the older generation goes to ask forgiveness and gain entry to paradise when they pass on.
I must add that I did not meet any monks and only went to one temple in an outlying province. I saw monks at the few vegetarian restaurants and though compelled to ask them about their practice, my greater desire to hide my beliefs from my young colleagues kept me from interacting with them. I am sure there are monks and masters in Viet Nam with great insight, but I’m sure there are others that have fallen into the same trap that many Theravadan monks in Thailand and Sri Lanka have fallen into. They are carried along by a deeply engrained cultural tradition and, finding themselves supported by the local populous, “hang out” with no real desire for enlightenment.
So what is it about these trips that has helped my practice? First, I see the opportunity that Zen has in the West. There is no cultural precedent that we must follow, save some of the helpful cultural forms that we bring from Japan, China, and Korea, and from both the Soto and Rinzai sects. In fact, as Harada Roshi, Yasutani Roshi and Kapleau Roshi realized, these forms can be mixed to the greater benefit of the practitioner, particularly in the West where no prior forms existed. I have also come to realize that, at least for me, hiding my practice is an enormous detriment. Admittedly, there are times when a person should not wear their religion on their sleeve, but there are also times when rather than running from our beliefs we must reveal them. It is easier to hide one’s practice as a lay practitioner. The ordained carry certain symbols of their practice everywhere, and I envy this in many ways. I have also learned how amazingly helpful it is to be around like-minded people. True Zen practitioners, even true Buddhist practitioners, are few and far between, not only in the West, but everywhere throughout the world. To be able to talk openly about the way we view the world with other people that view the world the same way cannot be underestimated. I remember Sevan Sensei speaking of a time when Kapleau Roshi broke into tears reflecting on the opportunity to be around like-minded people.
So will I take these lessons to heart? I sure hope so. I’m still working and when I sit, I sit with all of you at the CZC. This one still gets me on the mat…
With nine prostrations to all of you,
Barth
Kristin and I study monkeys, and Viet Nam is host to some of the most endangered of the bunch. Many of them eat primarily leaves and are truly extraordinary looking. If you google “douc langur” you’ll see what I mean. Given our distance from the CZC I thought that along with being scientifically valuable, a trip to Viet Nam – ideally a Buddhist country – would help me gain greater focus and insight, and I think this may turn out to be the case, but not in the way I expected.
For some initial background, upon returning from our first trip to Viet Nam I sat down to write an article for the CZC newsletter. Wanting to make it as uplifting as possible, I began to put together a tale concerning the little Kwan Yin figures that one often sees in cabs in and around Hanoi. I wanted to share with the Sangha the way in which the bodhisattvic ideal permeates the country, even though on the surface it appears to be just as delusional as any other place. After revisiting this draft, and after two more trips to Hanoi and outlying provinces, I think I have a clearer view of what was really gained from visiting and developing friendships in Viet Nam.
What I’ve come to realize is the fact that these little figures act much like the Jesus on the dashboard of cars in the United States. They are good luck charms. Much like rubbing the belly of a Hotai, these figures are thought to provide protection and prosperity. While they may do this to some degree, they became emblematic of what Buddhism is in Buddhist countries and what it has the potential to be in the West. Buddhism to many of the young scientists that we know is “what your parents do”. To many of these young people the temples are stagnant. They are places where the older generation goes to ask forgiveness and gain entry to paradise when they pass on.
I must add that I did not meet any monks and only went to one temple in an outlying province. I saw monks at the few vegetarian restaurants and though compelled to ask them about their practice, my greater desire to hide my beliefs from my young colleagues kept me from interacting with them. I am sure there are monks and masters in Viet Nam with great insight, but I’m sure there are others that have fallen into the same trap that many Theravadan monks in Thailand and Sri Lanka have fallen into. They are carried along by a deeply engrained cultural tradition and, finding themselves supported by the local populous, “hang out” with no real desire for enlightenment.
So what is it about these trips that has helped my practice? First, I see the opportunity that Zen has in the West. There is no cultural precedent that we must follow, save some of the helpful cultural forms that we bring from Japan, China, and Korea, and from both the Soto and Rinzai sects. In fact, as Harada Roshi, Yasutani Roshi and Kapleau Roshi realized, these forms can be mixed to the greater benefit of the practitioner, particularly in the West where no prior forms existed. I have also come to realize that, at least for me, hiding my practice is an enormous detriment. Admittedly, there are times when a person should not wear their religion on their sleeve, but there are also times when rather than running from our beliefs we must reveal them. It is easier to hide one’s practice as a lay practitioner. The ordained carry certain symbols of their practice everywhere, and I envy this in many ways. I have also learned how amazingly helpful it is to be around like-minded people. True Zen practitioners, even true Buddhist practitioners, are few and far between, not only in the West, but everywhere throughout the world. To be able to talk openly about the way we view the world with other people that view the world the same way cannot be underestimated. I remember Sevan Sensei speaking of a time when Kapleau Roshi broke into tears reflecting on the opportunity to be around like-minded people.
So will I take these lessons to heart? I sure hope so. I’m still working and when I sit, I sit with all of you at the CZC. This one still gets me on the mat…
“This earth where we stand is the pure lotus land,
And this very body, the body of Buddha”
And this very body, the body of Buddha”
With nine prostrations to all of you,
Barth
<< Home