Zen Dictionary

by Ernest Wood

Overview

Ernest Wood has taken an interest in Zen since writing his first article on the subject for a Shanghai magazine when he was in Japan in 1920. This book gives a clear picture of Zen ideas, history, and biography of the growth of Zen in China and Japan. Professor Ernest Egerton Wood (* 18 August 1883 in Manchester, England; + 17 September 1965 in Houston, United States) was a noted yogi, theosophist and author of numerous books, including Concentration - An Approach to Meditation and Yoga. He was also a Sanskrit scholar. Wood received his education at the Manchester College of Technology, where he studied chemistry, physics and geology. Because of an early interest in Buddhism and Yoga, he also started to learn the Sanskrit language.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780806530925
Publisher:	Philosophical Library, Incorporated
Publication date:	10/01/2001
Pages:	180
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.41(d)

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Zen Dictionary

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By Ernest Wood

Philosophical Library

Copyright © 1962 Philosophical Library, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2283-5

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CHAPTER 1

A

Abstractions

An example of the Zenist avoidance of abstractions is: When the Zen Master Tokusan became enlightened, he said, "All our understanding of the abstractions of philosophy is like a hair in space." Another, when the idea of difficulty was brought up in the matter of solving a certain problem, remarked, "It is like a mosquito trying to bite into an iron bull."

A certain logician, a non-Zenist, hearing of these, questioned: "Is this just a method of avoiding the conclusion in a syllogism, and an insistence entirely on the adequacy of the premises only, based upon the senses?" The answer that the premises or perceptions require no thought was challenged as itself a thought, but this was denied on the ground that it referred only to the action of perception without thought. The two examples given above show that the Zenist has no objection to analogy, when it serves to express an experience, not to make a comparison.

Alaya

This word means a house or rather a home, which is in turn a place where all the valued things for use by us are kept and among which we dwell. It came to mean also the spiritual storehouse of all the potentialities of life, which is to be regarded as our true home, and also as our ultimate destination.

There is naturalness not mere mysticism, in this idea, because we see that life in Nature is something sui generis, in no way a reflex from the operations of "dead matter." The distinctive point about life in Nature is not so much that it responds to contacts of environment as that it is conscious. If all the complicated actions of the mind were in fact only reactions (no matter how complicated) and life were nothing but a collection or collocation of such reflexes, there would have been no occasion for the rising of consciousness in the process of the organic development of life. This remark is entirely without prejudice to (or against) the Oriental belief that right down to and in the mineral forms in Nature there is some degree of consciousness and voluntary life.

So alaya is the infinitely existent self-nature present as potential in all living beings, and is that which Buddha experienced directly (not through reasoning such as is given in this note on alaya) in full consciousness at the time of his illumination. Zenists hold that this is possible for everybody.

Amitabha

Literally; Immortal light. Sometimes called Amitayus, Immortal life. Also Amida. Avalokiteshwara is called the "Spiritual son" of Amitabha. Manjushri is another aspect of divinity, expressing wisdom. These forms of divinity are often depicted in Zen monasteries, sometimes in the form of statues, but the zenists do not look for help from them, as the followers of the Pure Land Sect do, although they salute them with bows and reverence.

Anatta

The anatta or anatma doctrine taught by Buddha, to which most Buddhists including Zenists, subscribe, is briefly the "not self" idea of man's true nature. This is not to be confused with the "not-self" expression used in Hindu philosophies. It means that the true nature of man is not conceivable by the human mind, because that mind knows only objects, and therefore what men call "myself" is not in any respect themselves. Buddha taught that even with the best of understanding this "myself" is only a bundle of five tendencies, called skandhas (branches), including form, emotions, perceptive faculties, tendencies or habits of character, and mental ability or discrimination, including the idea of oneself as an entity among other entities.

In Hinduism the atman is the Self, and the anatman is the not-self, that is, all the objective things in the world, which are "not-self", and the great aim is to recognize the Self, and seek and serve it. With them, ahankara (the I-maker), Buddhi (the higher intelligence) and manas (the logical intelligence), together with all compounds of the five elements (bodies composed of earth, water, heat, air and sky-matter) are the not-self, and the atman beyond all those is the Self, the real dehin (owner of the body).

Although Buddha said that the idea of such a dehin as an entity was wrong, he nevertheless held to the reincarnation of the false "self", the set of skandhas, subject to constant change until the Truth replace it, when the skandhas would be ready to fall apart (would cease to make time) and only the Truth would be, in its own way or suchness. Buddhist poets have allowed themselves expressions such as "The dewdrop slips into the shining sea," and "The Universe grows I," but even these, and indeed all concepts bred in the mind of man must be wrong. At least they indicate, however, that the very idea of a permanent separate entity is wrong and stands in the way of Truth and Illumination. The most enlightened Hindus held the same view as Buddha in this matter as is well expounded in Chapter 13 of the Bhagavad Gita, where the Lord enumerates the eight constituents of man (the five elements and ahankara-buddhi-manas, the latter three being comprised in the modern term "the mind" in its most comprehensive sense), and states that all eight must be transcended.

Buddha was a reformer, fighting against both scholarly and worldly errors, including social castes and religious creeds. Whatever the reality may be, which is discovered at "illumination", the thorough-going Zenist Buddhist will allow himself only the idea of its own Thatness or Suchness (tathata) which is also a void (shunyata) or emptiness of all conceivable things or ideas.

The doctrine of anatta (non-atma) is common to both Mahayana and Theravada (Hinayana) schools of Buddhism.

Angya

This word means a pilgrimage on foot, and applies to the novice who wishes to join a monastery. His conventional dress includes a wide bamboo rain-hat, white cotton leggings, straw sandals and a satchel containing such things as his razor, bowls, books etc. Such a journey is beautifully described in a long poem called The Song of Angya, composed by Funyo Zensho in the early Sung Dynasty.

On arrival at the monastery, the pilgrim will present his letter of introduction, if he has one, and then wait in the entrance court for several days until admission. On admission he is on probation for another short period before being advanced into the meditation hall, where he bows before the shrine or statue and then is introduced to the brethren.

It is to be taken into account that the pilgrimage is valuable in itself. The personal and bodily difficulties faced and overcome, including inclement weather, are awakening and strengthening on one side, while the varying beauties of Nature and the constant meeting with varied persons and human activities are culturally beneficial on the other. It may be that on the pilgrimage, and not in the visit with a Zen Master, the Satori will come, but the pilgrim must on no account expect it in either case.

An-Shih-kao

First advocate of the Ch'an or meditation doctrine in China, about 150 A.D.

Anuttara-samyak-sambodhi

This is a statement about the experience of illumination by a Buddha. Anuttara means that it has nothing beyond (is the ultimate); samyak, correct; sambodhi, complete knowing. This does not refer to the highest of a series of experiences, but to what is beyond all categories and relativity. It is the Truth, reachable by meditation (dhyana or Zen).

Arhat

A term much used by Buddha, but not by Zenists. It means "ready", and was applied only to certain of his followers. The qualifications of the Arhat may be seen by reference to what Buddha called the ten fetters–fetters being defects of character which obstruct the true or essential realization. The first five fetters are (1) the delusion of the personal self, which is the thoughtless acceptance of the notion of oneself as body and mind, (2) doubt about the efficacy of the good life, (3) dependence upon ceremonies, (4) emotional desires, (5) emotional aversions. It is easy to see in these five the following of old unphilosophical mental habits.

These automatic responses being overcome, the disciple on the Path is ready (arhat) to face and overcome (6-7) the desire for life in form and formless life, (8) spiritual pride, (9) the notion of oneself as entity, and (10) ignorance of the nature of the essential self. Although the Zenists do not follow this classification, they in following the "direct method" are thereby at work overcoming the last five.

Artist and Picture

A simile which has been used to exemplify the relation between the higher self, or the character of a man (his will, love and thought), and his lower self, composed of his body and his habits of emotion and thought, including his memory. The "lower self" does not cause the improvements to the "higher self", which are due to his own thought, love and will, though it provides material or data for working upon. Thus in Buddhism the higher self is the artist and the lower self the picture. In each life or incarnation karma re-presents the artist with the work of his past while the artist reappears also modified by his past efforts. Thus the artist learns not to confuse himself with his picture, the lower self, on which it is his business now to work, rather than upon the "pictures" of others. Zen, however, goes a step further than this simile, and sets the artist to work upon the "higher Self", to reject even it as "myself", and to seek the Buddha-nature or Buddha-mind beyond it.

Artistry

The art of Japan has taken forms which indicate influence by Zen. Perhaps most typical is the shrine of beauty which is found in every good home. On a section of the wall there will be one scroll picture (kakemono) and perhaps one flower in a simple vase on a small table or stool or shelf.

The one flower is probably the most indicative feature of the display. Man can naturally enjoy one flower without strain, and from it can obtain all the loving union which is the heart of the sense of beauty that is possible for him without strain and its consequent breach of harmonious association. A bouquet is aggressive and overwhelming, stimulating perhaps, but demanding, and requiring that coping which drains the man while increasing his power.

The picture will be changed from time to time; there is a stock of them somewhere out of sight. A quantity of pictures causes distraction. On the other hand, a long continuance of one leads to inattention, since life is movement, not staticness.

In painting, it is remembered that painting is only suggestion, that a picture of a cow does not present a cow, and does not represent a cow except to one educated to that conventionality. Similarly alphabets do not represent sounds, but are conventional. The logical conclusion of this view of representation by the painting art is that the minimum of representation with the maximum of impressiveness is most "speaking" for the man unconventionalized to an art system. This is naturalness. And this we find in Japanese art, in the brush strokes with their deepenings and fadings, their broadenings and narrowings, their directionings or pointings, and their spacings so indicative of known relationships requiring no thought. It is all akin to the one-flower decor.

The skill required for painting (Sumiye) aims at producing a similar effect. The materials required are prepared with the greatest care. The paper is very thin, and quickly absorbs the ink, so that the artist must make his stroke in one movement, quite spontaneously, for there can be no alterations afterwards. The ink is made of a mixture of soot and glue, and is always black, though it can be put on the paper with dense blackness or lightly. The brush is made from the hair of a sheep or a badger, which holds plenty of ink; and is mounted in a bamboo handle, and shaped to a sharp point. The artist uses it with a free movement without resting the arm or hand on anything. This conduces to the expression of inspiration, resulting in appropriate directions, pressures, depths, etc.

Very closely related to this is Japanese and Chinese calligraphy. Thus, in reading an author's work in his own calligraphy one receives impressions of his feelings as well as the ideas he seeks to convey. As the same kind of brush and paper are used in Sumiye, the same effect of spontaneity appears in the form and thickness of the various strokes.

Arts of Zen

The zenic influence in art involves a replacement of restless detail by quietness, which is the chief 'action' in deep meditation. This is effected by the presentation of the space motive.

In painting, the leaving of portions blank by the placing of only the very necessary strokes on paper, "leaving the open space to be filled in by the mind", as the expression is, does not set the mind thinking (which is restless) but causes it to poise itself on what it knows (which is quiet or tranquil). This is the discovery that the observer makes when he observes the effect of Zen art in his own mind. It is not that the discovery of this effect is important; it is the effect itself that is so.

It is important that there be some lines. The paper is not to be blank all over, for the reason that in life the mind only becomes aware of the space when it is suggested not by the absence of objects but by the cessation or stoppage (nirodha) of them. For example, a triangle is not properly bounded by three lines, but by three edges where the triangle stops. To illustrate this one may cut out a triangle in cardboard or paper, and then hold it up.

It is just the same in the poetry of Zen (haiku, q.v.). When the sketchy verse ends, "The frog jumps into the pond; plop," one becomes by that aware of a new richness of silence or quietude — not that one thinks about it, for thinking about it spoils the effect. One knows it, not thinks about it.

The experience is the richer in both cases — the sumi (painting) and the haiku (poetry) — if the observer has previously found the mood of it, in some earlier happy experience of it, arising for the first time in a proper approach. Afterwards the mood can be voluntary. It is thus in the art of meditation. There is an unseen science behind it, which teaches the value of contemplation (in which there is no thinking) and which in fact is samadhi, the rich depth of meditation beyond the thinking phase of it. Even in ordinary poetry (if one may use such an irreverent expression about poetry), the pauses induce this poise, however brief and however nob-served as such, from time to time. That is why an idea expressed in poetry enriches us much more than the same expressed in prose.

The same zenic effect is to be seen in landscaping, such as that in the Ryoanji monastery garden near Kyoto. In that there is an arrangement of certain rocks placed in carefully raked white sand. It is not that the sand is there for our inspection. The rocks are. These may if one likes be given a meaning and be a language for us, but the so carefully unvariegated sand becomes filled for us with the tranquillity of our own deep knowledge, not thought, not even perception. It is just the opposite of what happens when one reads meanings into a confused litter of clouds or wet tea-leaves, or a clutter of chaotic designs, searching as it were for something pleasing and finding (or not finding) one beauty after another.

A good lawn evenly and closely mown, set off with a few suitable plants and flowers can have a somewhat similar effect to that of the rock garden — but not when there are masses of plants and flowers, however beautiful they may be when taken in smaller doses and without too much mixing together. One can wander in a mixed garden and enjoy it with benefit, but that is not the way of Zen, though there can be in it rich zenic moments when one really views one flower, or something, being caught and held poised by its beauty.

It is the same with skill in actions as with arts, for the sight. The Zen method (upaya) has led in Japan to the skill of judo, for which we have no proper translation in English. The nearest term is perhaps wrestling. But what happens in fact in the situations that arise is the same no-thought — the body is allowed its own wisdom and is completely free from mental driving or direction. In those circumstances its falling or rolling is a completion of natural action, like a willow tree that bends in the wind instead of shuddering and perhaps breaking, and afterwards restores itself not by recovery but by the completion of its own natural action.

(Continues...)

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