Poison for Hakuin’s Heart

Hakuin Ekaku was born in 1685 in a small village located between the cities of Edo and Kyoto in Japan. From these rather humble settings came one of the most enigmatic and revolutionary figures in Zen Buddhist history. After hearing frightening Buddhist hell sermons, Hakuin entered a Rinzai monastery when he was only 14 years old. However, instead of remaining inside a large city or temple like his peers, Hakuin moved to the countryside and to reside in remote country temples. Hakuin gave sermons, prose, poetry, and even folksongs to a variety of people, from scholars and government officials, to lowly country farmers. Later in his life, starting in his sixties, he did a series of paintings that lasted until his death in 1768 at the age of 84. Like many Zen masters before him, Hakuin was a man whose words and art, were often caustic, humorous, and shocking. One of the best examples of this is Hakuin’s Commentary on the Heart Sutra. Titled "Dokugo Shingyo" in Japanese, is usually translated into "Zen Words for the Heart". However, this rather placid and poignant title strips the true meaning of the title of his commentary, which is more directly translated as "Poison Words for the Heart", or "Acid Words for the Heart". In this commentary, Hakuin picks apart, nearly word-for-word (or phrase-for-phrase) this sacred text, the Heart Sutra in his trademark caustic, half-joking, and paradoxical style. It was mostly compiled from lectures he gave in 1744, but the actual date of printing is unknown. As Norman Waddell, translator of Zen Words for the Heart explains about the words of Hakuin:

"The virulence of poison has become proverbial among the followers of his school. One drop, it is said, even a single word, can be fatal, destroying the universe and everything in it. They are quick to explain, however, how it works as a powerful medicine pumping spiritual life into the dead letters of the sutra…"

So it begs the question, if Hakuin dishes out such poison words, why shouldn’t he expect some in return? Perhaps the dead words of Hakuin need to have life pumped into them as well, much like he pumped life into the dead words of the Heart Sutra. Here then is a poison commentary on the commentary of Hakuin, from both his Poison words for the heart, as well as other comments.

Hakuin begins his commentary with the pre-fix "Maha", the first thing written in the Heart Sutra. Hakuin states:

"What is it? Not a thing in the universe you can compare it to. Most folks think it means large and vast. Wrong! Wrong!"

From the beginning, Hakuin bashes the reader over the head with his words, much like one would bash a rug with a whisk to get the dirt and dust out. He concludes with: "Even a Superior Man has a love of wealth, but he knows the proper way to get it."

The Superior Man has a love of wealth, but perhaps he’s just clutching at straws. The problem with a term like "Maha" is that without a real substantive, definitive point of reference on which to place a term meaning "greater" or "larger", how can it really hold true? The "wealth" that a Superior Man seeks must know this dualism before he can accept and embrace the wealth, and not be fooled into thinking he is god. Such a man should not flaunt his wealth before others, nor be stingy with it either.

A second comment comes from the word "Paramita", and is as follows:

"The Chinese for this means ‘reach the other shore’. But where is that? He’s digging himself into a hole to get at blue sky."

One need not go on an expedition to lost worlds to find the other shore, because it has been right in front of you all along. The Heart Sutra merely acts as a map for finding this shore. Fortunately, we have Nagarjuna to help guide us there as well, who stated that reaching or desire of something of essentially futile, for there is really nothing to be grasped for. It’s like teetering on the side of a cliff, and reaching out for a slice of thin air to pull you back up; or as Hakuin says, "digging yourself into a hole to get at blue sky"; you cannot keep searching for something in it’s opposite. Blue sky does not exist in dirt; thin air is not a solid object.

When commenting on the statement "Form is Emptiness, Emptiness is Form", Hakuin states:

"Rubbish! A useless collection of junk. Don’t be Trying to the teach apes to climb trees. These goods have been gathering dust on the shelves for two thousand years."

A useless collection of junk perhaps, but one man’s treasure is another’s trash. Teaching an "ape to climb a tree" is a patently obvious waste of time, as Hakuin says. But others still try; perhaps they derive pleasure in beating themselves over the head to try to get the answer to fall out of their ear and into their laps. Teaching an ape to climb a tree works incredibly well though—mainly because the ape already knows how to climb! There is great success in practices that keep one going around in circles; indeed, that is why so many continue to do so.

From the Heart Sutra; "Sariputra, all things are empty appearances."

Did Hakuin kiss his mother with such a filthy mouth? Perhaps not; in all likelihood she was dead when this was written. Rubbing ones’ eyes to make "flowers" appear seems much like ingesting drugs. The experience is amazing, but that’s all it is—an experience. Rubbing your eyes produces amazing wonders, but they don’t really mean anything, and ultimately if you do it enough, could probably hurt your eyes. Massaging the brain to find the answers to the great questions of the universe might lead one to find an answer, but ultimately will just leave one with a giant headache. The answers always have been, and always will be right in front of your face. No need to start rubbing your eyes to make pretty illusions appear before you. As Hakuin later says,

"The little chaps in your eyes are awaiting their guests"

People continually make the mistake of substituting an empty experience for a real one.

Commenting on the line "They attain highest enlightenment":

"Stop hammering spikes into empty space! A steer may give birth to a calf, but no Buddha was ever enlightened by relying on wisdom. Why? Because wisdom and enlightenment are essentially not-two. Besides, if he has anything left to get, he is no Buddha".

The delusion that there is something substantive to "hammer a spike" into continues. A delusion possibly created by, as I pointed out earlier, "rubbing your eyes to see flowers"—trying too hard to see that there is something there, and creating artificial experiences to get at that substance, when of course there isn’t really anything there at all. "No Buddha was ever enlightened by relying on wisdom"; Wisdom alone does not hold the key to enlightenment. To paraphrase a quote by musician Robert Fripp, wisdom is a means to an end, not an end in itself.

"Otters will be catching fish in trees long before a Buddha is enlightened by relying upon something", Hakuin later states. Wisdom is what one should have when one is enlightened, but using (and possibly abusing) wisdom is not the point in being a Buddha; and wisdom itself is simply not enough in achieving enlightenment; for it does not take a great man to hold knowledge, but it takes a great man to be a Buddha.

In response to "Know therefore, that the wisdom paramitra is the great mantra", Hakuin states:

Much like Hakuin described the hammering of spikes into thin air; Hakuin now takes those spikes and hammers them into the mind of the readers to drive the points in. "Hauling water to sell beside a river", another absurd example of taking an action to attain something that is right in front of you. "Transcribe a word three times…" this, according to Norman Waddell, is a reference to the fact that the characters in Japanese for horse, crow, and how, are all quite similar, and that printers, having to hand copy books, would often make mistakes in translating them, thus destroying the meaning. The further away you get from the original message being said, and the more distant the translations become, the more diluted the message becomes, until it barely resembles any original qualities. A classic example of this is the children’s game of "telephone". If no one felt the need to transcribe the texts, to just let them be, they would stand on their own merit, and their meanings would be discovered for what they really are.

"Great and glorious mantra", the Heart Sutra states. Hakuin turns this into:

"Don’t say ‘great and glorious mantra’! Break apart that rough, unshapen staff and the great earth’s Indigenous Black stretches out on every side"

Here, Hakuin almost sounds like a stern schoolteacher, with a ruler ready to smack the unsuspecting knuckles of the students. The point here goes back to the first line of the sutra, "Maha", and Hakuin’s initial statements. How is there to be something "great and glorious" if there are no true barometers of such a thing, especially in a world in which no-thing exists? The meaning of the sutra is in danger of being lost in translation. Great and glorious are just words—they don’t describe the true world, for the true world is really beyond description.

"The Highest Mantra" is the following line, to which Hakuin states:

"What about down around your toes? Bring the lowest mantra!"

Be careful investigating around the toes, for you might get stepped on. All mantras have worth, as long as they proclaim truth. Just because this might be the "highest" mantra, does not necessarily mean it is the best. As I’ve pointed out, great and glorious are just words—it’s the meaning that counts, not that perceived status.

The final line of the Heart Sutra begins with "Preach this mantra and say". Hakuin says in response:

"He’s still at it! Over and over! What about woodcutters’ song? Fishermen’s chanteys? Where do they come in? What about warbling thrustles and twittering swallows? When you enter the water, don’t be culling bubbles from the waves"

Everything, from the highest Mahaprajnaparamitra Heart Sutra, to the lowliest song hummed by an every day man, or the sounds of nature all around, contain value and worth. In fact, one might learn a lot more about the world around them by residing in small villages, hanging around every day people like fisherman, farmers, and woodcutters, and listening and paying attention to the world around them, than barricading yourself in large, self-important monasteries, sitting quietly and doing nothing. This is indeed what Hakuin did—he choose to reside his entire life in small temples in the countryside, living with the same humble people he grew up with, rather than flaunting his knowledge about in a grand temple of a big city. From the koan that follows:

"Zen practice these days is all cocksure and shallow.

They follow others’ words, or fancies of their own.

When hearsay and book learning satisfy your needs,

The patriarchal guards are still a million miles away"

Hakuin writes, in another Zen koan:

"This very earth is the Lotus Land of Purity

And this very body is the body of the Buddha"

Hakuin, this old, crazy man from the countryside, made a tremendous impact in the world of Zen Buddhism, and his philosophy is summed up in that very koan. One need not search the entire world for answers, and pin their hope on false wisdom and experiences they might have. As Alan Watts describes:

Watts, Alan 1957

The Way of Zen Vintage Books New York, New York

Watts, Alan 1940

The Meaning of Happiness Harper and Row New York, New York

Hakuin translated by Waddell, Norman 1996

Zen Words for the Heart Shambhala London, England

Addias, Stephen spring 1985

"The Revival of Zen Painting in Japan" Oriental Art Vol. XXXI no. 1 London, England

"Hakuin" 2000

http://geocities.datacellar.net/ganesha_gate/hakuin.html