On Cigarettes, Trees and Other Formlessness

At War With the Self

As a beginning Ch'an practitioner delves into the study of Ch'an, he or she ultimately comes face to face with their own existence. The concept of emptiness challenges the practitioner to prove such existence. In the practice of Ch'an, the practitioner must have great faith that the Dharma that is being taught is correct. Often times the practitioner must rely on this faith to accept that which cannot be seen, spoken, or directly taught. On the opposite side, opposing the Ch'an concepts, is the self; the self is a mighty opponent that does not easily yield. The self continues the battle. The self contends, by its very existence and thought patterns, that surely the self exists.

Indeed, this is a dilemma to the beginning Ch'an practitioner. It is much easier to see the self than to rely on a faith that the Dharma is correct. A person might feel the body, see the clouds in the sky, feel the chair that one sits on and say "this is real; this has form; this has substance; this is firm; the clouds are soft." Finally, it is "I" that perceives all these things "I believe what my own eyes reveal to me; I think therefore I am."

But what if a Zen teacher told such a person that such thoughts are, indeed, nothing but emptiness, that such thoughts are impermanent and have no form. It is very common that the Ch'an student will be left in a quandary. Should he or she trust the senses or should they trust the Dharma that is being presented to them?

The battle with the self cannot be won by faith alone. The Ch'an practitioner must use their investigative skills to search for what is real and what is not. Often times a Ch'an practitioner begins by trying to prove what cannot be seen. It may be more advantageous to prove what can be seen, and his or her own existence. Can one prove their self? Can one prove that the phenomena is permanent? Can one prove all that one sees, feels, tastes, touches, smells or thinks is real? Do these forms that one perceives exit?

As one begins to ask these questions, more questions will arise - thus the quest for the truth commences. While the truth cannot be found outside the body, the inward search will reveal much to the Ch'an practitioner. Truly the Ch'an practitioner must engage in this method in order to fully grasp the meaning of these words. Once again, such turning begins with the questions, or the attempt at proving one's own existence.

The process of the investigation continues to create more doubt and more questions in the Ch'an practitioner's mind. If the Ch'an practitioner is diligent, such questions will reveal that the Ch'an practitioner's existence as he perceives it through his senses does not exist.

No Where, No Form, No Butts About It

The Heart Sutra invites the Ch'an practitioner to ponder "form is not other than emptiness, emptiness is not other than form". "So also are sensation, perception, volition and consciousness." This statement, taken as faith alone, cannot enable the Ch'an practitioner to transcend beyond the self. However, when the Ch'an practitioner uses this Dharma in the proper manner. Such Dharma can serve as a springboard to further questions and ultimately to the acquisition of true wisdom.

The first hurdle to overcome by the Ch'an practitioner is to accept the notion that form is empty and that the emptiness is form. Initially this statement proves quixotical to the beginning Ch'an practitioner. However, it is the very confusion that enables the Ch'an practitioner to explore deeper to attempt to catch the essence of this concept. But how can this puzzle begin to be assembled?

It may be helpful to consider the form of a cigarette. Better yet to prove that a cigarette has form. Can we say that this cigarette was born? Not really, because a cigarette was assembled. What is the content or form of the cigarette? Basically a cigarette consists of tobacco rolled in a thin piece of paper perhaps with a fiber filter at one end. Does this concept give the cigarette form? Not truly; if one perceives what the nature of the cigarette is, one will perceive that it is a temporary gathering of different non-cigarette substances.

In fact, when does a cigarette become a cigarette? Is it a cigarette when it was the tobacco plant, or the tree, or the cotton that serves as the filter? Or is it a cigarette when it is assembled? Does a cigarette become a cigarette when it is lit? And what about the cigarette after it is lit and consumed? Has the cigarette now disappeared? Could one prove scientifically that the cigarette no longer exists? Then what happened to the cigarette? Quite simply, the "cigarette" changed form.

Following this reasoning one can clearly see that the cigarette never existed as it was merely a temporary gathering of certain substances which eventually changed to difference substances. However, there was no increase nor any decrease in substances as a whole, only a change in form.

Where Does One Tree Begin and Another Leave Off?

Now take for instance, the phenomena that we perceive as a tree. When did this phenomena become a tree? Did it become a tree when it was a seed - the seed of another tree which has now sprouted in the same earth that gave rise to the other tree? Are not these phenomena connected? Can one really distinguish where one tree begins and one tree leaves off?

Let's carry this example further. Suppose one is to say that the tree was born when the seed left the first tree. Does this action now constitute a separate living entity? Now consider, what if we were to cut the branch from the tree filled with many seeds. Would this now constitute a separate entity? In all likelihood you would perceive the phenomena to be merely a fallen branch form the tree.

There must be something more required in order for the seed to be perceived as the new tree. So, imagine that this seed has spouted. Does this act give rise to the "birth" of a separate living tree? The process of regeneration essentially is a biological process by which cells divide. Such cells take nutrients from their environment. If such nutrients are in sufficient abundance these cells will continue to multiply and grow.

Does not this "new tree" take nutrients from the same environment as the old tree? Does not this new tree have the same basic cellular structure as the old tree? Then what is the difference between the new tree and the old tree? The size of the old tree distinguishes it. Also its spatial location with respect to the new tree; where the old tree stands, now then the new tree stands apart from it. Does this give rise to the birth of this tree? Or is this just a regenerative process of nature?

Again consider this new sapling. Can this new tree be considered a tree? Or must it wait to grow in size? At what point does it become sufficiently large enough to constitute a tree? Can any two people agree on the point when a sapling reaches a sufficient dimension to constitute a tree? Consider further that each tree is slightly different than the other. Does this difference in trunk and branch structure give this tree its separate identity? Or does this discrimination exist only in the mind of the observer? In fact, is it not just the observer's discriminating mind which creates the form of the tree? But what of this mind? What does it consist of? Where is this mind housed?

From Where Did Your Seed Come From?

Let us take our analysis one step further. The beginning Ch'an practitioner may be asked "From where do you come from?", or perhaps the question "Who are you?". Can you prove your self exists? Begin with the analysis of the body -much like we have analyzed the tree. When does one begin their existence? Surely it is not at the moment of "birth" when the fetus emerges from the mother's womb. Let us pose a more difficult question? At the time of conception did the self commence? Was the union of DNA particles sufficient to create a new life? Biologically speaking there was only a combining of information between the egg and the sperm. Was anything created at this moment? A scientist would be hard pressed to establish that there was any particular matter that was created at that moment. Whatever existed immediately before the conception did not create new matter there was only change in form.

It may be argued, "a fetus grows and a child is born. From where does this child come from?" The counter argument is still no new matter is created. Biologically it is quite clearly understood how this child grows. It takes nutrients from the environment around it. First in the mother's womb and later from the mother's breast and from the air. This is no more than a transference of matter from one form into another. Air is taken into the lungs, water and food into the body. Through this exchange of nutrients, such nutrients are converted into cell structures. If one wants to reduce body weight, one reduces the intake of food and water. Can it be said that the self is reduced? Can it be said that there was a decrease in matter? The answer to the two questions is no.

A probing analysis of the foregoing will begin to lead the Ch'an practitioner into the understanding of formlessness and impermanence. This initial understanding serves as a platform upon which the beginning Ch'an practitioner can examine much more challenging questions such as "Who am I?", "What is the self if the self is not the body?", "What is the mind?" and "What are my thoughts?"

No Body, No Mind, Nobody

The beginning Ch'an practitioner can usually accept that the form is empty. The more difficult step to take is to understand and accept that the thoughts are empty as well. One cannot separate the concept of impermanent phenomena, such as the body from the mind. If one pricks their finger the nervous system of that person's body will immediately dispatch an electrically encoded message of a pain sensation to the mind. But does this mental cognitive processing constitute the soul or the mind of a person? No, it is an exchange of bio/physiological information within the body. In fact, after the initial pricking sensation occurs and the pain subsides, then what is left? Nothing to the experienced Ch'an practitioner. However, to the beginning Ch'an practitioner they may argue that the recorded memory of the pain sensation is left. But how permanent is this memory? Does this recorded memory constitute the form of the mind? A dogged analysis of these questions will still fail to turn up the permanence of the mind. Mental cognition cannot be proven to have a lasting quality.

When one dies, the body dies, the nervous system dies, and all recorded past phenomena within the cognitive mind dies. However, one cannot say that such a being has died if they truly have never experienced birth. One cannot say that upon the "death of an individual that the world has decreased by one individual." At the moment that this individual came into this realm there was no increase in matter. As in the analogy of the tree there was only change in form. If one probes deeply into this analysis one will find that like the analogy of the tree you cannot prove the individual self. Applying this method to all phenomena perceived, one will come to the realization that nothing is permanent. That all phenomena is in a constant state of flux. This analysis will lead the Ch'an practitioner to see that nothing truly exists. All phenomena that is perceived to exist we call by such and such a name, yet the phenomena's transient nature, even the name, is nonexistent.

It is at this point that the beginning Ch'an practitioner's mind is flooded with a plethora of confusing thoughts and doubts. If the beginning practitioner's practice is proper, such confusion and doubts will lead that practitioner to the realization that one may obtain deep wisdom by turning their thoughts inward and absorbing the ultimate truth of these concepts.

On the other hand, if the beginning Ch'an practitioner's practice and mind is unsteady his confusion and doubts will be turned against these Ch'an principals. This Ch'an practitioner would become discouraged much like a young child playing with a puzzle it cannot solve. For lack of persistence, and perhaps karmic obstructions, such a practitioner is unable to maintain the persistent determination necessary to decipher these ultimate truths. This is indeed unfortunate. One who is exposed to the Dharma should make every effort to investigate the teachings. Indeed the Ch'an practitioner should attempt to keep their mind in the present moment always.

The difficulty of keeping the mind in the present moment is initially the product of the inability of the person to see that even thoughts within the mind are nothing but phenomena. When a Ch'an practitioner investigates persistently, such a practitioner will come to the ultimate realization that the thoughts are not real and cannot be proven real. In fact, once this realization is made there is no difference or discrimination between the observation of external and internal phenomena, nor is there discriminating among thoughts. More importantly there is no concept of a self.

This realization transcends even the belief that the practitioner is at one with the universe. One can say: no thought, no self, no universe.

Do Not Let the Thief Serve as the Judge

Once again it is difficult for a beginning Ch'an practitioner to grasp these concepts. The problem lies in the mechanism that the Ch'an practitioner uses to process the teaching of the Dharma. When the intellectual mind is used, such a mind is a clever mind. It will utilize a number of mental traps to trick the practitioner into abandoning the practice as useless and improvable. The utilization of the intellectual mind to investigate Ch'an is tantamount to allowing a thief to serve as his own judge. The outcome of such trial will be inevitable.

Later, with diligent practice the Ch'an practitioner may be able to temporarily overcome the intellectual mind. Perhaps such a practitioner will enter into a state of Samadhi in which they will experience calmness and tranquility as never experienced before. Such a practitioner must be on guard not to deviate from his method at this moment. The intellectual mind is set for this moment, waiting to pounce upon the Ch'an practitioner. The intellectual mind has been lying in the wait. It has been suppressed by the practitioner's diligent practice. To the unwary Ch'an practitioner, at this moment the self may reappear to harvest the fruit of his labor. The Ch'an practitioner may divert his attention from the method to observe what has been attained. However, a harvest of this fruit will prove that the fruit is bitter-sweet and no yet ripe.

The diligent Ch'an practitioner will recognize these thoughts as phenomena. He or she will not become excited. More importantly they will not be diverted from the continuing use of the meditative method. For such a Ch'an practitioner there is no search or quest for the ultimate truth. There is only the method. Venerable Master Sheng-yen teaches that a student should not look forward to the goal of enlightenment. He advises that the Ch'an practitioner should be as if climbing a very high mountain. On this mountain, the climber enters into a very deep fog but continues the climb up the mountain, not knowing how far he has come nor how far he has to go. There is only the climb. There is nothing to see, so one continues diligently upon the path. Likewise the Ch'an practitioner should continue with his method, never bothering to see how far he must further travel. There is only the method.

The Present Moment: Balancing on the Point of a Pin

What is it about the Ch'an method that enables the Ch'an practitioner to put down the self? Quite simply, the method serves as some form of a compass to keep the Ch'an practitioner in the present moment. When thoughts of the past arise the Ch'an practitioner's mind is diverted from the method. No longer is he or she in the present moment. They are then observing past recorded phenomena that has been bio/electrically stored in the brain. Once the Ch'an practitioner recognizes that he or she is observing past recorded phenomena, they may be able to resume using the meditative method. And so, once again, the Ch'an practitioner is in the present moment. One will maintain their awareness of the present moment until such a time as another past recorded phenomena arises in the mind and one diverts their attention from the method.

The utilization of the method to maintain awareness of the present moment is analogous to balancing on the point of a pin. Initially, because the balancing surface is so small, it is very difficult to maintain one's balance. Anyone attempting to balance on the sharp point of a pin would be unable to maintain their balance for more than a split second. Ultimately, with diligent practice and a calm mind a person attempting to balance on the point of a pin would gain an increased measure of proficiency at this task.

The same can be said of attempting to keep your mind in the present moment. Even utilizing a Ch'an meditative method, one may not be able to keep their thoughts in the present moment for more than a split second. With diligent practice and an ever calming mind the Ch'an practitioner may be able to increase the length of time they remain in the present moment. As with balancing on the point of a pin, the Ch'an practitioner will be able to increase the time he stays in the present moment. Once recognizing what the present moment is like, the Ch'an practitioner now has his or her bearing - much like knowing the heading on a compass. One then begins to stay longer in the present moment. Ultimately one will find such comfort on this balanced point that they will not seek to divert their attention from the present moment.