Zen and Japanese Culture – Still Being Read 2010.03.10

Daisetz T. Suzuki.

Zen and Japanese Culture.

New York: Princeton University Press Bollingen Series #64, 1973. ISBN 0-691-01770-0.

Well, I have been continuing, albeit somewhat inconsistently, my reading Zen and Japanese Culture. It continues to fascinate, in a delicious pairing with Epictetus, and with C.G. Jung. Epictetus argues all that is important to live a happy (complete?) life is to willfully recognize those things in life over which we have the power of the will; Jung argues that the will is subject to the natural existence of the unconscious. Suzuki argues that the highest expression of Zen is to mindfully remove the mind, and to exist being an expression of capital 'N' nature! Hmmmmm. Seems like there are some philosophical hurdles here — which I am in the process of exploring. To begin that exploration I am writing out an example of each philosopher's philosophy, beginning with Suzuki.

Some may ask: How can the sword which implements the will to kill work out its function by itself without the willer's directive behind it? What originality, what creative work, can an inanimate mechanical tool be made to carry out all by itself? When a tool performs whatever function it is made to perform, can we say it has achieved something original? The point is this: When the sword is in the hands of a technician-swordsman skilled in its use, it is no more than an instrument with no mind of its own. What it does is done mechanically, and there is no myōyū discernible in it. 

Odd thought - this reminds me of the horse whisperer's comment about a 'dead' horse lacking spirit, on the episode 'The Dog Whisperer Meets the Horse Whisperer.' Suzuki continues:

But when the sword is held by the swordsman whose spiritual attainment is such that he holds it as though not holding it, it is identified with the man himself, it acquires a soul, it moves with all the subtleties which have been imbedded in him as a swordsman. The man emptied of all thoughts, all emotions originating in fear, all sense of insecurity, all desire to win, is not conscious of using the sword; both man and sword have turned into instruments in the hands, as it were, of the unconscious, and it is this unconscious that achieves wonders of creativity. It is here that swordplay becomes an art.

As the sword is not separated from the man, it is an extension of his arms and accordingly a part of his body. Furthermore, the body and the mind are not separated, as they are in the case of intellectualization. The mind and the body move in perfect unison,, with no interference from intellect or emotion. Even the distinction of subject and object is annihilated. The opponent's movements are not perceived as such and therefore the subject, so called, acts instinctually in response to what is presented to him. There is no deliberation on his part as to how to react. His unconscious automatically takes care of the whole situation (p146).

The last paragraph corresponds exactly with the Dog Whisperer's actions. He frequently comments that he is acting instinctively to what this particular dog presents to him as its particular course of treatment. Also, Suzuki's comment about the unconscious automatically taking care, reminds me tangentially of the submissive dog — it is instinctively acting as per the pack leader's mien and is happier to do it than to be the leader. And yet, it is not an act of unconsciousness, but one derived from consciously making the choice to not interfere with the natural instincts, to work with it. Again, I feel an intuitive link between TDW's comment that animals are striving to do something/anything in the service of their pack leader/master. This was strongly stated in the episode with the horse whisperer.


And, even more bizarrely, I am reminded of Krishna's admonishment to Arjuna, after Arjuna expressed reluctance to fight his relatives. Krishna pointed out that it would be unwise for him to turn away from his true nature, which is that of a warrior. Krishna's wisdom required that Arjuna fight his relatives, even if morally that was unwise, and to fight with is heart and soul and, if necessary, to kill them, because his fight was a right and just one. Arjuna refuses to fight against the greed destructiveness of his relatives, arguing that ...

The sins of men who violate the family 

undermines the constant laws

of caste and family duty
(1.41).

To which Krishna replied:

Look to your own duty;

do not tremble before it;

nothing is better for a warrior

than a battle of sacred duty
(2.31).

Odd connection of ideas. Stay tuned; I will be citing from Jung and from Epictetus.

Zen and Japanese Culture - Begun 2009.09.30

What a great find!

Actually, I found this at the same time I found The Art of Living By Epictetus, A New Interpretation. The cover shown here is not of the edition I purchased.

Here is the book's publication details:

Daisetz T. Suzuki.

Zen and Japanese Culture.

New York: Princeton University Press Bollingen Series #64, 1973. ISBN 0-691-01770-0.

A previous owner, from the heartfelt inscription, gave it as a gift to a loved one:

To Lief

from my collection —

with Love, Joan, July 1990

This is a big book, beautifully filled with monochrome prints of Japanese art from the 8th to 18th century.

And it has some beautiful writing!

For example, in Suzuki's description of the Noh play 'Yama-Uba' he describes love:

... Yama-uba, literally 'the old woman of the mountains,' represents the principle of love secretly moving in every one of us. Usually we arre not conscious of it and are abusing it all of the time. Most of us imagine that love is something beautiful to look at, young, delicate, and charming. But in fact she is not, for she works hard, unnoticed by us and yet ungrudgingly; what we notice is the superficial result of her labour, and we think it beautiful — which is natural, for the work of love ought to be beautiful. But love, herself, like a hard-working peasant woman, looks rather worn out; from worrying about others her face is full of wrinkles, her hair is white. She has so many knotty problems presented for her solution. Her life is a series of pains, which, however, she gladly suffers. She travels from one end of the world to another, knowing no rest, no respite, no interruption ... (419-20).

And, to my great surprise and pleasure, he has included a couple of small extracts from Chuang-Tzu in a translation I haven't seen before, as well as many Zen stories. In particular I thoroughly enjoyed the 'Swordsman and the Cat' that a quick Google found transcribed on Menno Rubingh's website (that until now I did not know existed).

I am quite sure I won't be reading this book from cover to cover, but dipping into it, sipping it, allowing what ever synchronistic energies are extant on any particular moment in time guide my hand and eyes. And, oddly enough, I have already stumbled across an equivalency in Suzuki's description of Zen and the ideas of Constructive Living as presented by David K. Reynolds, and hence also The Dog Whisperer! Now that can't help but be an example of projecting into everything the idea that become fixated in the mind.

Zen is not necessarily against words, but it is well aware of the fact that they are always liable to detach themselves from realities and turn into conceptions. And this conceptualization is what Zen is against. ... Zen insists on handling the thing itself and not just empty abstractions. It is for this reason that Zen neglects reading or reciting Sūtras or engaging in discourse on abstract subjects. And this is a cause of Zen's appeal to men of action in the broadest sense of the term...(5).

Okay, the link might seem weak, but CL and TDW both advocate living in the moment, attending to what needs doing in the here and now without dw

elling on thoughts/remembrances of what was or fearing what might be.

And I also was pleased to see that Suzuki has included art

work by the famous Japanese swordsman, Miyamoto Musashi,

because I have delighted in his manual on the art of the

sword, called A Book of Five Rings, or, in Japanese script,

as calligraphed by Musashi,

Go Rin No Sho.