With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
There is an art, largely lost among us today: the art of giving and taking help. Some thirty plus years ago, I attended a workshop given by an elder named Alan Keith-Lucas. He was a gentle man who reminded me of my grandfather. Alan wrote a book entitled Giving and Taking Help which is considered a classic among some social workers. I was reminded of this topic last night.
Bodhisattvas are here to free all beings from suffering. What does that take? Some might say, including myself, practice. And for most of us in the Zen world, practice means zazen. Taking a backward step, stopping, noticing, letting go, etc. are all part of this practice.
Yet, rarely do we teachers (or other helpers) notice how help might be perceived by those to whom we are directing it. Help is a loaded term. And thy processes involved in giving and taking are like a minefield in the soul.
To free a being means that we perceive that being as being not free in the first place. We do not know what binds them, but we think we know. It is in this thought that the problem arises. We must begin where the person is. But more, we must begin knowing we cannot know nor can we assume we know what is the relative nature of the person before us. We might see them suffer. We might hear their anger or frustration, but we can only assume we know its source.
So, to begin we must be open ourselves. We must ask ourselves what is motivating our need to help. We should look deeply into this matter. What is the reality on all sides of the helping situation. Second, we need to invoke what Keith-Lucas calls the act of loving imagination, empathy. And finally, support. Notice, nothing is directive. everything is open and in-service to the person before us. It is this person and this person's world we are working in, not our own.
There are eight gates of Zen practice delineated by John Daido Loori-roshi. In truth, there as many gates as there are sentient beings. What is important is that not every gate is open to everyone at the same time. Seated practice might be wonderful for me and you, but an abyss of terror to someone else. Understanding the true nature of Zen is helpful here.
Zen is Ch'an, is Dhyana. This dhyana is an active, dynamic process. It can be practiced on the cushion, or walking along the way, or with one's heart, mind, and body at work. Zen is nothing other than being completely present in this precise moment: awake with all the senses to all perceptions, yet without being led around by the collar by any one of them. Zen is freedom from investment in the senses.
Does this mean we do not appreciate the senses? Hardly. It means we appreciate them very much, but we put them in their proper relationship to us.
So, to be a bodhisattva means to appreciate the many gates and many beings and to patiently offer support as all beings find their own way.
Be well.
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