..续本文上一页s of silence. It came from nowhere and flowed nowhere. Then there was no river and no I. The I had ceased to exist … when I say “the I had ceased to exist,” I refer to a concrete experience that is verbally as incommunicable as the feeling aroused by a piano concerto, yet just as real—only much more real. In fact its primary mark is the sensation that this state is more real than any other that has been experienced before.
—From The Invisible Writing by Arthur Koestler (Macmillan)
This is an example of the fresh start under extreme adversity, a popular subcategory among awakening stories. There is the Zen teacher who awakened at the moment he broke his leg. There”s the story of a Jewish captive of the Nazis who, about to be executed, was overwhelmed with love for the world, including the man who was about to execute him. “Ich du liebe,” he said, embracing his captor, and the embrace was returned and the execution forgotten. There”s the one about the mountaineer who fell from a cliff toward his death, awakened on the way down and, full of joy even about his fall, was saved by a lucky bounce into a tree. I like these stories because they indicate that there are no conditions under which it is wise to refuse life. From the koan point of view, this is one of the consequences of awakening—life is always here and it”s always for our benefit.
There”s also a modern Japanese story that follows the Hakuin model, and because its hero eventually became a koan teacher for many Westerners, his story became in turn a model for us. Koun Yamada lived in Kamakura after the Second World War and ran a hospital and health system in Tokyo. His wife was one of the first women to get an MD in Japan. He struggled to get his fresh start by meditating on koans during his two-hour commute to Tokyo each day. One day, on the train home after a Zen retreat, he came across the line, “The mountains rivers and the great earth, the sun, the moon and the stars, are none other than the heart-mind.” He was impressed by this koan and it kept repeating itself in his thoughts. He woke at midnight and it filled his mind:
Then all at once I was struck as though by lightning, and the next instant heaven and earth crumbled and disappeared. Instantaneously, like surging waves, a tremendous delight welled up in me, a veritable hurricane of delight, as I laughed loudly and wildly: “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! There”s no reasoning here, no reasoning at all! Ha, ha, ha!” The empty sky split into two, then opened its enormous mouth and began to laugh uproariously: “Ha, ha, ha!”…
I was now lying on my back. Suddenly I sat up and struck the bed with all my might and beat the floor with my feet, as if trying to smash it, all the while laughing riotously. My wife and youngest son, sleeping near me, were now awake and frightened. Covering my mouth with her hand, my wife exclaimed, “What”s the matter with you
What”s the matter with you
” But I wasn”t aware of this till told about it afterwards. My son told me later he thought I had gone mad.
“I”ve come to enlightenment! Shakyamuni and the ancestors haven”t deceived me! They haven”t deceived me!” I remember crying out. When I calmed down I apologized to the rest of the family who had come downstairs, frightened by the commotion.
—From The Three Pillars of Zen, edited by Phillip Kapleau (Beacon)
Like Hakuin”s story, or Yu the donut-maker”s, this is an example of an awakening sought within a tradition in which it is a desired and expected outcome of training. It”s different in approach from the just-hit-you-over-the-head-for-no-apparent-reason fresh start that Koestler reported. But if these various awakenings have something in common, how are we to understand them and what it is they all share
There”s not really a lan…
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