The Transmission of the Light IV

​A splendid branch issues forth from the old plum tree.

Thorns come forth at the same time.

-Keizan-Zenji, Transmission of the Light

This poem is an early example of the Japanese Zen aesthetic of Wabi Sabi. Wabi Sabi has three primary features or virtues: imperfection & irregularity; age; simplicity & naturalness. We find them all manifested in pottery, brush painting, tea ceremony, poetry, as well as the lives of Zen adepts.

Today, I will go into imperfection. All life has imperfections. Regardless of how good we are at meditation, there are times when our fear or anger get the best of us.   Buddhist mythology refers to six psycho-spiritual realms, including a hell realm.  We all enter this lowest realm at times where our sense of flawedness prevails.

Supposedly the guardian spirit, Jizo Bodhisattva travels between the hell realms acting as a guardian and guide. When someone reaches out skillfully to us when we are in a Hell Realm, that person is manifesting his Jizo power.  On a few occasions I watched my Zen teacher manifest this power. One morning a small group of us including Suzuki, were getting set to go to a lecture at an art museum in San Francisco. At the last minute my roommate, Ruth, who I shared a duplex with, across the street from the Zen center, decided not to come even though she had been very enthused the night before. Ruth had fallen into a deep trough with her depression and had not attended group meditation for some time. When we got to the museum, we sat down in the auditorium to hear the talk, but, mysteriously, Suzuki disappeared, so that he missed the entire talk. When we left the theater, there he was exiting the gift shop. “Sensei,” I exclaimed, “Where we you during the talk?”  “Buying a card for Ruth,” he replied quietly. He must have given it to her shortly after we came home because I saw it on the coffee table in our duplex.  I said something to her about the card and she exclaimed, “What a man Sensei is, he accepts me, warts and all.”  This is a great example of Wabi Sabi. And soon Ruth began meditating with us again. 

When we’re in a Hell Realm it’s hard for us to reach out to others because we often feel drained and exhausted with a sense of hopelessness. But with a little support, change is always possible. Instead of trying to be perfect or pretending, can we embrace our vulnerability, our flawedness?   

Here’s a second story about my first teacher. He had been asked to speak at Stanford University where I was a student. I knew he was a little nervous about this. His English was quite broken and he commented that he didn’t like to speak to people who were not meditation practitioners. But he agreed. And there I was sitting in the front row of the auditorium next to him. As he was being introduced, he whispered to me, “I scared,” gently grasping my hand. Then he got up and gave his talk in a relaxed and engaged manner. His ability to be quietly transparent with me seemed to help him let go and engage fully.

Each of us is flawed because life has wounded us. When we open up to our wounds/flaws, we have the capacity to move beyond being crippled by them. Sometimes our flaws become a catalyst for opening up to new opportunities. An example was my friend, Al. Al had two adult children commit suicide. As he sat in meditation each morning, he experienced wave after wave of anger, guilt, and sadness. As he simply allowed his emotions to course through him in a non-judgmental way, without repression or judgment, he used the energy from his pain to pour himself into developing a Suicide Awareness service which is now helping family members throughout the country help folks who are suicidal and help loved ones who have lost a family member or friend to suicide.          

Sometimes our opening up to our flaws includes reaching out to others for support in a way we wouldn’t normally risk doing. We realize that others are flawed in similar ways to us and develop bonds, which can be deep and long lasting. What better example of this is there than the tremendous success of Twelve Step groups during the past thirty years?

Suzuki commented once, “To appreciate our human life is as rare as soil on your nail.” When we can just look at the flaw without projecting anything on it, we may find ourselves embracing it and even appreciating its irregular and quirky beauty.  The dirt on our fingernail shows our engagement, our involvement in life beyond any idea of perfection.

As Madonna sings,  “Just take me with all my stupid flaws. I’ll never be as perfect as you want me to be. Take me, with all of my beautiful scars. I won’t apologize for being myself. I love you the way that you are . . . Don’t judge me, although I’m incomplete. My imperfections make me unique. That’s my belief. I come to you with all my flaws. With all of my beautiful scars.”

What a wonderful antidote to shame. We can begin to feel connected to our core self and to others on a visceral level. We can discover beauty right in the heart of our broken parts; hold it, and even cherish it, the opposite of the inner tyrant’s blood sport: “find the dysfunction — and pulverize it.” 

I will close with a Zen story followed by a quote from Leonard Cohen.            

One day some people came to the master and asked ‘How can you be happy in a world of such impermanence? The master held up a glass and said, “Someone gave me this glass, and I really like this glass. It holds my water admirably and it glistens in the sunlight. I touch it and it rings! One day the wind may blow it off the shelf, or my elbow may knock it from the table. And I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”

“Forget your perfect offering. There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in. This crack is where lasting love takes root.”   -Leonard Cohen

 A splendid branch issues forth from the old plum tree.

Thorns come forth at the same time.