Dreams Start With Patience #59

Reading time: 3 minutes

Alan Watt’s - Letting Go

It has been well said that Buddhism is Hinduism stripped for export.

Hinduism is a whole way of life—cookery, family life, house building—so you can’t export it directly.

But there are essential elements in it that can be transmitted, and Buddhism was one of the ways.

One might sum up what Buddhism is about by the word “Buddha,” derived from the Sanskrit root budh, meaning “to be awake.”

The Buddha is the awakened one, who woke up from a dream—a state of hypnosis or trance called avidya (ignorance).

It means not seeing, or ignoring everything you’re not looking at.

We were hypnotized into attending only with conscious attention—the spotlight—instead of our full awareness—the floodlight.

We began to imagine we were separate individuals.

A Buddha overcomes that illusion.

A Buddha knows something that cannot be expressed in positive terms; Buddhism often sounds negative.

You meet a teacher—perhaps someone like Krishnamurti—and they destroy all your fixed formulations.

You feel like you’re suddenly in midair with nothing to hold onto.

People often say they need religion because they need something secure;

Buddhism says true faith is letting go, not holding on.

The method of Buddhism, called the Dharma, is to knock the stuffing out of you, remove everything you cling to.

It has no doctrines you must believe.

You might be a Roman Catholic or a logical positivist; both cling to something.

Buddhism knocks out the underpinnings, leaving you with nothing to hold on to.

Then you learn nonattachment, the art of letting go. It doesn’t mean losing your appetite for dinner—it just means no psychological stickiness.

Life is in flux; everything falls apart.

When you accept that, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Often people cling to suffering just to feel secure.

But Buddhism says there’s no security in suffering or even in suicide.

You must accept that everything changes; go with it.

If someone doesn't want to let go, you can’t force them.

Buddhism depends on a special relationship between teacher and student.

Buddhism went to China around 60 A.D., but it wasn’t until around the year 400 that a Sanskrit scholar named Kumarajiva and his Chinese colleagues made major translations.

They used Taoist terms for Sanskrit ideas, so Indian attitudes were modified by Chinese attitudes.

Indian Buddhism was largely celibate and humorless; Chinese culture valued family and had a strong sense of humor.

The “Chinese way” considered sex natural and wanted to remain active in life while being inwardly on the mountaintop.

This mix of Indian Buddhism with Chinese Taoism (and some Confucian practicality) gave birth to what the Chinese call Chan and the Japanese call Zen. 

Bodhidharma arrived in China around 500 A.D. and touched off Zen as a distinct movement.

He had a disciple named Eka (in Japanese pronunciation) who famously cut off his arm to demonstrate his sincerity.

When Eka asked for peace of mind, Bodhidharma told him to bring out his mind.

Eka looked and couldn’t find it.

Bodhidharma replied, “Then it’s pacified,” and Eka instantly understood.

Chan or Zen comes from dhyana in Sanskrit, which isn’t exactly meditation; it’s more like total presence of mind.

You’re all here—no hesitations.

Buddhism is about nonattachment, so you aren’t “phased.”

Zen teachers often respond to spiritual questions with a mundane statement (“I had a boiled egg this morning”), and to mundane questions with something that sounds philosophical.

It is a style of training that involves paradox.

Zen developed in the Tang and Song dynasties (about 713–1200), a golden age of creativity, then shifted to Japan, influencing poetry, painting, calligraphy, and more.

It’s slowly fading in Japan and growing in the West.

The Zen method uses dialogue between student and teacher, but the teacher offers “nothing to teach.”

The teacher might present unsolvable riddles called koans that expose attempts to be “genuine” as futile.

The teacher wants you to see there’s nothing to get—no ultimate thing you can cling to.

You see that you are it already.

As soon as a student thinks they’ve got the answer, the master insists there’s more training ahead, until the student is no longer phased by any come-on or technique.

Zen can appear authoritarian at first, but once inside, you discover compassion and humor.

The teacher’s sternness is a skillful way of exposing all illusions.

Zen acknowledges an element of “rascality” in human nature; if we pretend to be purely saintly, we lose our humor and real humility.

Zen values the “old rogue”—the poet, scholar, or monk who is free and comfortable with ordinary passions.

Eventually, the student realizes there’s nothing to find.

The teacher’s only aim is to help the student see they already have what they’re seeking.

Once the student fully sees through the game, there is mutual respect.

In essence, Zen is helping us realize we already are what we seek—letting go of clinging and resting in the transparency of each passing moment.

If you want to listen to the lecture from Alan Watts click the link down below:

Letting Go - Alan Watts

See you next week,
-Zachariah

Thanks for reading!

Another way I can help you when you are ready.

Coaching Call - 45 minutes (click here for more information)