A New Koan Practice?

When I was working with the I Ching, I often had the experience of the Sage answering not the question which I had consciously posed and written at the top of my notebook page but the deeper question which I’d been afraid to ask. I’d stumbled onto what Jung had called synchronicity. 

I called this the invisible hand of the Universe. After that, I found the invisible hand showing up in many places. As we built our network of charter schools, we faced so many challenges I couldn’t keep count. All kinds of things from budget problems to personal challenges to curricular issues. We often lacked the ingredients which the management and education gurus told us were essential to solve our problems. 

We would be sitting around my desk in our open office brainstorming an instructional problem. Maybe I’d completely forgotten the budget problem and the personnel challenge. Our leaders were arguing instructional options. I had no idea which proposal was best, but suddenly a proposal leaped out that not only “solved” the instructional problem but simultaneously resolved one of the forgotten issues, sometimes even more than one. There was a proposal for an after-school program which might help improve  academic performance. It also provides the growth opportunity for a rising leader which had been stumping us. It may even allow us to take advantage of a grant opportunity. Not a lot of money, but something. Synergy is the language of the Universe.

Over the years, I have called this many things, sometimes the “voice of God.” Strange you might say. Buddhism is notoriously non-theistic, but God is embedded in our language. You can call it anything you want. Some Buddhists, including Bernie, called it “the interconnectedness of life.” What you call it is not important. The important thing is to pay attention, notice it, appreciate it, whatever you call it, the voice of the Universe or the voice of God. 

I saw the invisible hand again last night in an interview with one of my students. These interviews are very short, so much shorter than the psychoanalytic “hours” and the psychotherapy sessions which had been my way before Zen. I schedule students one after another on zoom, at 10-minute intervals.  Matthew was zooming from Schenectady where he’d gone to help Karen be with her mother as she approached the end of her life. Matt shared his frustration. The doctors weren’t giving anyone any direct answers.

And then Matthew shifted gears, “My name is Matthew, and my practice is ‘Not Mind, Not Buddha.’” That’s the koan that he’s been working with for a couple of weeks. 

A monk asked Ma-tsu, “What is Buddha?”

Ma-tsu answered, “Not mind, not Buddha.”

I wasn’t being much help. This was not a koan which changed my life as I worked my way through the koan collections with Roshi Bob. It was not a koan that was illuminated for me by other students as they struggled with it. But last night, there was the invisible hand, shades of the I Ching Sage, and of Jung’s synchronicity, the invisible hand of God. It was right there.

I shared what I saw. “Matthew, in all earnestness, asked the doctor, ‘What’s the prognosis? What’s next?’ and the doctor replied, “Not Mind, Not Buddha.”

Matthew saw it. “I want answers. I am so uncomfortable with not knowing.” He smiled when he said that. Matthew has been studying with me a long time. He knows about Bernie. He knows about Not Knowing. 

We had only time to marvel at the Universe. How amazing it is that Matt is working with this koan at this moment in his life.

Maybe this is the way the I Ching works. Maybe this is the way the Universe works. 

Synchronicity is everywhere. It is here in koan study. Has it been here all along? Have I just not noticed it?  Perhaps I have, but I’ve never articulated it to myself or others as a way of working with a difficult koan.

When we are stuck, consider asking ourselves, “Why is this koan coming up in my life at this moment?” Sitting on our cushions, we empty ourselves. “Shut up and listen,” I like to say now. “Stop talking, stop the endless mind chatter so that you can hear the voice of God.” 

I got a glimpse of something more from Ma-tsu in that interview with Matt than I’d gotten before. But it didn’t come from looking directly at the koan. It was the juxtaposition of the koan with what was going on in Matt’s life that was illuminating. We saw the light. We don’t always see the light when we’re presenting the koan to our teacher. We don’t always see the light sitting on our cushion. Sometimes the flash comes later, while showering or walking in the park, when our koan is completely out of mind.

Last night, Matt gave me a new tool, to prod a student stuck on a koan to look at what is nagging at them in their life at the moment. Could your koan be the response of the Universe to your unspoken question?

This experience suggests a new way of working with koans. At least, it’s a way which is new to me. I’ve heard that people use the Bible or other religious texts in this way, opening the Bible to a random verse. 

What an unorthodox way to approach koan study. My way has always been the way in which I was trained, working through the four collections, always the same four collections, one koan after another. In light of my experience with Matt, that seems so mechanical. The collections were all put together by editors working in particular moments in history. Is there anything sacred in this editing process? Which Zen master chose the koan collections we study? Which Zen master determined the order in which we tackle them?

Consider allowing the Universe a greater voice in the process? Why rely on the judgment of an ancient Chinese editor or a relatively modern Japanese roshi? Write down your deepest question. You are doing Dogen Zen. You are studying yourself. Your deepest question is your deepest question of the moment. Your practice will take you deeper. Your practice is to study yourself, not to study koans.

Now grab a koan collection off the shelf and open to a random page. Read the koan. Does it speak to your question? No? Sit with it. Let the koan sink in. Still doesn’t answer your question? Maybe the Universe is taking you deeper still. What is the question that the koan is answering? What is the question that you were afraid to ask? Try it. The Universe is a great teacher. 

I am terrified by this idea. It’s such a departure from the way which was handed down to me, although I know that koans were a Chinese invention. They don’t go back to Shakyamuni, and the way of koan study which I inherited was created much more recently than that. But I am apparently not too frightened to say it out loud. 

Is this a way to avoid the trap in koan study which I fell into? It’s embarrassing now to admit, but passing koans became my goal. It is so easy to lose track of them as a tool for studying the self. I am sure that others have fallen into the same trap, but I don’t hear many people talking about it. I am terrified to imagine changing the way of practice, of trying a new approach. What if we got away from the idea of “finishing the four books” as a practice hurdle and kept the focus on studying ourselves.