I'm at the Bodhidharma Zen Center in Warszawa. That's how they spell Warsaw around these parts. They pronounce it vor-sha-vah. Crazy, huh?
So this morning at breakfast the woman who seems to be in charge here was asking me about my practice and my teacher. The usual Zen small talk. When I told her how Nishijima Roshi lived his life during the time I was with him in Japan she said, "So his students didn't support him financially?"
I said that they didn't. He had a regular job and he always encouraged the teachers he ordained to do the same. Then something popped out of my mouth that surprised me. No, not a lump of half-digested oatmeal! It was when I said, "I'd never want to be supported by students. Then the students would feel like they could control me!"
Perhaps this is exactly why Nishijima chose to live the lifestyle he did and encouraged others to do the same. When the students pay for the teacher's rent and food they naturally feel they deserve to receive some return on their investment. If the teacher fails to teach them what they want to be taught, the students figure they have a right to complain. Poor service! I'm payin' you for this stuff, buddy!
I had this happen once in a really blatant way when someone complained about the way I ran one of the retreats I held at Tokei-in temple in Japan. He literally said, "I paid Brad Warner $250 for that retreat" and went on to say how he felt ripped off. As it so happened, he was entirely wrong there. I had paid the same $250 to the temple as him and everyone else at that retreat. He didn't pay me anything. But his attitude showed pretty clearly how these problems arise. He felt entitled to demand the retreat be what he wanted because he paid for it.
This assumption is not really so unreasonable. If you pay for a hotel you deserve clean towels. If you pay for a KISS concert you can complain if they don't play Rock And Roll All Night. The situation at a Zen retreat is different and it needs to be made clear from the outset. Which I have endeavored to do at each retreat I've run since that one.
But there's a bigger issue here, which is the issue of how a Buddhist student who supports his or her teacher financially can feel entitled to demand specific services in return. If a Zen teacher gives in to such demands, Zen teaching cannot happen. I suspect a lot of what we see in Zen today comes down to this problem.
In my case, I've taken Nishijima's advice. My day job is "writer of lousy comedic books with a Zen angle" and I'll take as much money as I can get from that gig. And when I play that role I cater to audience demands to the same degree as any writer. A good writer has to find a balance between what the audience wants to read and what the writer wants to say or nobody buys his books.
But in Zen teaching it's vital not to accept any demands at all from one's students regarding what they think you ought to teach them. A Zen teacher has to be, in some sense, entirely selfish and self-indulgent. But it's a different kind of selfish self-indulgency than you get most of the time. It's a selfish self-indulgency that includes the students as well as the teacher within the realm of "self." The "self" that is being indulged is not limited to the teacher's individual being. The teacher has to be as hard on students as she is on herself. And that often hurts. In both directions.
I'm not saying a Zen teacher who is financially supported by students cannot do this. It can and does happen. Often. But it's much more difficult, I think. Or at least it would be for me.
So ANYWAY, the other night on Roxy.fm in Poland Tomak Lipinski and his co-host Vienio asked a lot of really great questions. But one theme that kept coming up is one that occurs in this ancient video of a Q&A with Nishijima Roshi:
Do you see how the woman questioning him keeps wanting to draw the discussion into the area of how and why Nishijima Roshi is superior or more enlightened than she is (or so she appears to believe) (by the way, the second questioner is me)? I sort of felt the same area was being entered into last night. And it's been a common theme throughout this trip. The crazy lady in Katowice was trying to test me to see if I was as cosmic as she felt I ought to be. She said some weird thing about "the sounds of the butterfly" and I said "maybe" because I wasn't sure what the hell she was talking about. She replied, "A Zen Master must have no doubts!" When I said I had a lot of doubts I think that's when she started getting mad. (I don't even wanna get into the whole "Zen Master" deal, see a few entries below)
In France and in Poland variations on this theme keep coming up. Some seem to want to test me to see if I live up to their expectations of a "true Master" or whatever. Others assume I must be a "true Master" and want to know what secrets I hold. How does the "enlightenment" they believe I claim to have make me special? And is it worth the bother?
There is something that comes with extended Zen practice over a period of several years. No doubt about it. But it's not something that others don't possess. Or that you don't possess already before you begin practice. It's more a matter of finally coming to terms with, and maybe even getting comfortable with that something. Not fighting against it all the time.
The crazy rain we've had here for the past week has finally ended. But now the people of Warsaw are worried that all the water from the south will flood the big rivers. There were all kinds of folks standing on the bridges last night to watch it come in. Is God trying to tell us something with all this rain?
