Once
upon a time a young turtle
happened upon an old turtle
it had never met before as
it roamed across an endless
field of grass. It had been
roaming for days, looking
for water, for it was very
thirsty, and very hot.
Although it knew it could go
for many days without water,
it knew the number of days
left was diminishing
quickly. Yet the field
seemed to have no boundaries
- it seemed to go on and on
in every direction! "Wait
until the sun passes
overhead," the old turtle
said, "and then travel in
its direction. When the sun
goes down, stop and rest.
Sleep until the following
day when the sun once again
passes overhead. Then
continue on as you had the
day before - follow in the
direction the sun moves and
continue this for as many
days as it takes until you
come to the stream. You will
be greatly rewarded." The
young turtle had never
encountered this stranger
before and thought, "Why
should I trust him, I know
much more than he does about
this field I am in. I have
been in it for many weeks
and I have never seen him
before. How dare he consider
himself more knowledgeable
than me about this field and
suppose that he knows how to
escape from it! Follow the
sun?! Who's ever heard of
such a thing?!" So the young
turtle said to the old
turtle, "Oh be quiet you
crazy old turtle. You know
nothing!" and continued on
as it had been, moving
through the tall grass,
unable to see horizon or
tree line, mountain or
stream. Days passed, then
weeks. Finally, the turtle
had lost its ability to
move. "Here I will die." He
thought to himself. He lay
unmoving for three days, but
still alive. During those
three days his thoughts
reviewed his life, his early
years as a young turtle
jumping off of logs into the
river water with his friends
then soaking up the summer
sun on an outcropping log.
He lamented that he would
never again feel the cool
water and gentle
weightlessness of a swim. He
remembered how he used to
lie on the log and watch as
the sun moved across the
horizon. How it always moved
from the direction of the
big black rock on one side
of the river toward the dip
in the trees on the other
side. Always the same. Every
day. As if it was pointing
him somewhere ... And that
was his last thought, as he
lay there, motionless, in
the tall field grass, no
longer able to breathe.
We humans have a very
specific disability that we
all share: we're human.
We're born with an
incredible intelligence, the
ability to feel things
intensely, and to create
amazing works of art. Yet
the very things that make us
human, ironically, make us
vulnerable to losing our
connection with ourselves
and with the universe in
which we live. Our minds
create a substitute universe
within which we seem to
exist, and we mistake this
microcosm for Reality. Our
microcosm is a universe of
impressions about ourselves:
what we like and dislike,
what we feel, who we think
is good or bad, what
political party we connect
with.... All these things
give us a sense of personal
identity, make us think that
we are something unique,
independent, and apart from
all else around us. Our
thoughts, ideas and opinions
shape us into who we imagine
ourselves to be as human
beings. And from there, we
live our lives in our
bubble. Alone.
Isolated, we become
commanders of ourselves
without the vision to see
beyond the confines of our
personal-universe. We are
like a fortress, cut off.
With such an attitude and
limited awareness we are a
universe unto ourselves,
impenetrable by anybody. We
denounce the wisdom of
others when it doesn't fit
into the emotional framework
of our lives. We choose to
agree only with opinions of
others who share our
personal values and feelings
about things, rather than to
investigate directly and
objectively into the nature
and basis of our views. We
are victims to the popular
status quo, taking solace in
being a member of a group of
like-minded people. Giving
ourselves to the group, we
become easily swayed by
popular opinion within it.
We fall victim to scams,
give our money freely to
support the group, and are
easy prey for advertisers
who take advantage of our
strong feelings for the
group. We are as
marionettes, our strings
pulled this way and that.
But does this make us happy?
No. What we fail to realize
is that the cause of our
suffering is our grasping at
a personal identity - one
that exists independently of
all else, and is our De
facto center of the
universe. The lonliness of
isolation this generates
creates a strong desire to
attach to a group, to the
extent that our entier
identity becomes merged with
that of the group. Our Self
becomes ever more lost the
more we move in this
direction, and the task of
recovering it, ever more
distant and difficult.
Unfortunately, there's no
way to see the reality of
this until we're lucky
enough to get a glimpse of
it directly through a crack
in the fortress. And even
then, we have to take the
glimpse we see seriously
enough to make it matter to
us if it's going to help us
change our world view and
escape our samsaric
condition.
In the world of Buddhism,
this self-centric nature
plays out in many tragic
ways, most notably,
preventing us from making
progress on Zen's Path ...
should we get so far as to
find its trailhead in the
first place.
A recent study,
Cultural
Cognition of Scientific
Consensus, published in
the Journal of Risk Research
(vol. 14, pp. 147-74, 2011),
sought to understand why so
many people disagree, and
disagree strongly, about
scientific facts - facts
about which scientists agree
upon, nearly unilaterally,
such as the nature and cause
of global climate change,
nuclear waste disposal, and
the effects of allowing
concealed possession of
handguns. A result of their
study: people "form risk
perceptions that are
congenial to their values."
They name this tendency the
"cultural cognition of
risk". The consequences?
People are more likely to
agree with a scientific
consensus on a topic if his
or her own conclusions match
those of the scientific
consensus. Similarly, people
are less likely to consider
a scientist an expert on a
subject if his or her views
differ from that of the
scientist, regardless of the
credentials (or fame) of the
scientist. Their collected
data and analysis similarly
showed that "Individuals
reflexively reject
information inconsistent
with their predispositions
when they perceive that it
is being advocated by
experts whose values they
reject and opposed by ones
whose values they share."
Our turtle discounted the
life-saving advice from the
old turtle because the
advice did not fit into his
view of the world or his
view of public opinion on
the matter.
"Who's ever
heard of such a thing!?"
So strong and ingrained are
our self-created belief
structures that they blind
us from seeing past them,
they obfuscate the truth
when it's presented to us,
however clearly and
directly.
When we are predisposed to
thinking about things a
certain way, and hold on to
these ways of thinking about
things, we become trapped
and confined in such a way
that we close ourselves off,
no longer able to expand our
awareness beyond our
self-created, impenetrable,
fortress. We see this play
out in many different ways
among Buddhists - some of us
Buddhists insist that we can
only become enlightened if
under the tutelage of a
"Great Master". We may
lament that "there are no
‘Great Masters' left,"
rationalizing why we have
not yet become enlightened
and excusing ourselves from
putting effort into
practice. We prefer to
think that a "Great Master"
can, effectively, push a
button and awaken us,
removing the necessity for
effort on our part.
There are also those of us
who believe we can only
become enlightened if we
study the famous sutras or
chant the Buddha's name. And
there are some of us who
believe we can only become
enlightened if we sit
cross-legged for 5 hours a
day and eat nothing but
vegetable broth and rice.
While any of these methods
may bring profound spiritual
growth: it is not the
method, by iteself, that
accomplishes this: it is our
approach and attitude that
does. As Hsu Yun wrote in
his autobiography "All
expedient methods taught by
the Buddha are good for
treating worldly illnesses
and the recitation of the
Buddha's name is an agada
(medicine) that cures all
diseases. However, each of
these methods requires a
firm faith, and inflexible
resolution and considerable
practice in order to give
good results. If you are
strong in faith, you will
achieve the same perfection
whether you concentrate on
mantras, practicse Chan, or
repeat the Buddha's name."[1]
Then there are also those of
us who believe that only by
mimicking cultural
expressions of Buddhism are
we practicing the Right Way.
Confusing outward methods
with fundamental principles,
these views, whatever they
are, are only strengthened
by the vast number of other
people who believe the same
things we do. Eventually, we
consider anyone who does not
share our beliefs to be "in
error" and we are quick to
point out to them that there
are other people who share
our views, therefore they
must be the correct views,
and any contrary views
blatantly wrong. Hsu Yun
continues, "If you are weak
in faith and rely on your
tiny good roots, little
intelligence and shallow
knowledge, or if you
memorise a few Buddhist
terms or a few gong-ans and
then talk aimlessly,
praising and censuring
others, you will only
increase your
karma-producing habits... is
it not a great pity?"[2]
When we live inside a fixed
and rigid world-view it
creates great conflict for
us. We constantly have to
defend our points of view to
others who don't share them.
We are so convinced that
ours are the "right" ones
that we are willing to argue
and even fight over them to
defend our psychic
territory. But most often it
surfaces when we lecture
other people on what they
should do in order that they
acquire the same world-view
that we have. When other
people agree with us, after
all, then there is no
conflict and we can rest at
ease.
This is why Zen is such a
prickly thing for many
people to approach, and
wrought with challenges for
those trying to teach it. A
person of Zen is often up
against a nearly
impenetrable fortress when
trying to help someone to
its gates. All we can do is
point the finger at the moon
and hope that some tiny
fragment of illumination
breaks through the thick
walls of self-protection and
isolation we humans so
naturally tend to erect
around us. Zen's path begins
with a first glimpse of what
exists outside our
ego-microcosm, and only once
we have had that first
glimpse can the walls begin
to come down to reveal the
full grandness of what's
beyond. But unless we allow
a crack to arise in the
fortress, that glimpse can
never come.