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Stepping Off A 100 Foot Pole

Beyond the Limits of Reason & Faith

by Daigaku Rumme

 

Crystal clear on all sides

Open and unobstructed in all directions

Emanating light & making the earth tremble in all directions

Subtly exercising spiritual powers at all times

Tell me, how is it manifested?!

Wansong Xingxiu Zenji (1166-1246CE China)

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Many years ago I was ordained a Zen monk. Entering the small monastery in rural Japan, where I still live, provided the form and direction to the spiritual quest which had been developing since my youth. In 1986, ten years after having entered the monastery, I first came in contact with the Alexander Technique and immediately noticed parallels between it and Zen. Since then I have often reflected on those similarities and in the context of spirituality and Alexander discoveries, I would like to share a few of my observations.

Spirituality has been an important component in the lives of men and women since the dawn of human history. Religion did not arise simply because people wanted to appease powerful forces. It helped them relate to their environment and ground themselves in it. Primarily, though, religion has been the means to explain the tragedy and suffering of this beautiful, yet terrifying world. Through the thousands and thousands of years of human existence, spirituality has constantly changed and adapted. Religion has shown itself to be very pragmatic. When one idea of God or gods ceases to work, it is discarded in favour of another. Although the West in the twentieth century is often characterised by its secular belief in humanism, there is now growing interest in the nontheistic religions of the East, particularly Buddhism. Perhaps the two main reasons for this are the teaching that everything is one unity, together with the living tradition of practising under a teacher and personally experiencing this for oneself.

In my own case, I was drawn to Zen because of a deep question about how a person ought to live. How, I wondered, could one person possibly bring about any change in the immense problems which face the world: war, poverty, various forms of discrimination, the destruction of the environment and so on. Like many who came of age in the 1960's, I was seeking an alternative to the materialistic lifestyle which we perceived to be the main cause of these problems. However, in the course of seeking, reflecting, and asking what could be done to resolve these problems, I realised that in order to change the world I had to change myself. I saw that the root cause of all suffering is the greed, anger, and folly arising from the ego-self. Zen seemed the most direct and down-to-earth practice to achieve freedom from an egocentric viewpoint. Once that liberation is realised it would then be possible to 'return to the marketplace' to aid in imparting that peace and freedom to others. To die and be reborn in this manner is certainly no easy task, and many years have passed since I began this journey. Yet I am still very much dedicated to this way of liberation.

The Alexander work came into my life at a time when I was having much difficulty with pain in my lower back. In fact it seemed that if the condition did not improve I would have to quit sitting through the long retreats of intensive zazen which we have several times a year in the monastery where I live. Very fortunately the person who was to become my main Alexander teacher came to live with us at the monastery. Largely through her great generosity, patience and dedication I was able to overcome my back problem. This is no small feat as I am a tall (196cm), thin (70kg) man with a scoliosis of the spine, living in an environment constructed for people who are much, much shorter. In more ways than one, my health has been seriously affected by the strain of misusing my body. Now, though, in large part thanks to the Alexander work, I am in good health.

It would be fun simply to write about the challenges I have faced living in the monastery: short handles on everything from brooms to shovels, low sinks, extremely low thresholds, long periods of sitting and standing still and so on. However, as I must be as brief as possible, I will confine myself to the topic of spirituality&emdash;specifically Zen&emdash;and the Alexander Technique, a subject which could easily fill a book.

There is a deep religious aspect to the Alexander work which is perhaps often overlooked, namely trust or belief. Alexander is praised for the highly scientific approach he took&emdash;both in the way he found, and applied, his discovery. However, there is not as great a gap between science and religion as we tend to think.

Science demands the fundamental belief that there is a rational explanation for everything, it also requires an imagination and courage which are not dissimilar to religious creativity … A truly creative philosopher or scientist, has like the mystic to confront the dark world of uncreated reality and the cloud of unknowing in the hope of piercing it.1

Albert Einstein, commenting on the relation between religion and science, said:

To know what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself to us as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms&emdash;this knowledge, this feeling is at the centre of all true religiousness.2

Alexander clearly documented the critical point in his study that would enable him to pass from the 'known to the unknown.'

I now saw that if I was ever to succeed in making the changes in use I desired, I must subject the processes directing my use to a new experience, that is of being dominated by reasoning instead of feeling. This meant that I must be prepared to carry on with any procedure I had reasoned out as best for my purpose, even though that procedure might feel wrong. In other words, my trust in my reasoning process to bring me safely to my 'end' must be a genuine trust, not a half-trust needing the assurance of feeling right as well.3

From the point of view of Zen, there are two interesting points in all of this (I should say that while Zen is a religion, it is also a rigorous study of reality and, more specifically, the self). First of all, the idea that science can rationally explain everything is a belief. It is a belief that modern man has nearly substituted for the belief in God. Yet explanation, no matter how precise, can never be the reality itself. Say the word 'fire,' for example. Why doesn't it burn your mouth? Say the word 'water.' Why doesn't it quench your thirst? In these simple examples, we can see that descriptions, whether they be words, picture images or thoughts, are not the thing itself. Consequently, it is one of the axioms, not only of Zen but of other mystic traditions as well, that reality itself is fundamentally unknowable. In this way it is possible to use reason to see the limits of the intellect and to understand that it must be transcended, but to become reality itself requires great belief.


"If only we could realise

that everything is one!"


The second important point in this connection is that faith or trust implies doubt. No one believes that the sky is blue, that water is wet, or that salt is salty. These truths are self-evident. For Alexander the question at the centre of his doubt was: 'What am I doing to myself to cause my difficulties?' This doubt was an essential factor, in combination with his faith in reasoning, in fostering the determination necessary to find a resolution to his problem.

In Zen there is a similar process. Without genuine belief in the Buddhist teaching that all beings are essentially in a state of liberation as-they-are, we will always look outside the present moment. It is precisely the doubt that we personally have not realised this liberation, together with the faith that we already are liberated, which will motivate us to actually make it our own. What is amazing is that Alexander accomplished this without a teacher, but then so did Shakyamuni Buddha. For those of us following in their footsteps, it makes it that much easier. Yet it is necessary that we also do what they did. As Alexander put it so succinctly&emdash;if you will do what I did, you will be able to do what I do. If we can truly do what they did, it becomes our own, at which point reason and faith are no longer necessary. What is the practice required for making their realisations our own? There are some intriguing parallels.

Zen is the direct realisation of the oneness of all things. In a word, it is to forget the ego-self which is the source of all such distinctions as right and wrong, likes and dislikes, you and me, life and death. There is a well known Zen story of a monk named Joshu who asked his master, "What is the Way?" He wanted to know the means by which he could attain true peace and freedom. His master said, "Everyday mind is the Way." Each activity in our life, from morning till evening, is the Way itself. Joshu was not satisfied though. He was not interested in mere intellectual understanding. So he asked again, "What sort of practice can I do in order to truly realise that everyday mind is the Way?" The master replied, "If you look for it, you'll only go in the wrong direction." Practice with the intention of trying to understand 'everyday mind' will only separate you from it further. Joshu was getting more and more confused and somewhat desperately asked, "But if I don't do anything, how can I ever understand the Way?!" His master said, "The Way is neither knowing nor not knowing. Knowing is delusion, not knowing is indifference. When you have reached the true Way beyond doubt, you will find it as vast and boundless as outer space. How can it be talked about on the level of right and wrong?" With these words, Joshu attained sudden realisation. The important point of this story is that true liberation is neither in intellectual understanding nor in shrugging it off indifferently.

Human beings can only think of the past and the future. Once something is perceived it is already past. For this reason, the moment 'now' is unknowable. It is beyond knowing and not knowing. It is beyond right and wrong, profit and loss, enlightenment and delusion, life and death. In a word, it is the timeless, eternal reality which mystics and scientists struggle to apprehend. Yet since it is unthinkable (the Unthinkable), it precedes consciousness and so it is also of course beyond apprehension.

Many people assume that if all evil could somehow be eradicated only good would remain. But this is impossible. Good and evil can only exist in opposition to each other. This has great significance for the Alexander work. Alexander clearly saw the problem arising from knowing. "You can't do what you don't know, if you keep doing what you do know."5 If we can simply give up the desire to be right, then, wrong immediately disappears and we are left with the present moment which is empty of either one.

No one can think two thoughts at the same time. It simply is not possible to think of being right and being wrong at the same time. One thought must disappear before another can arise. This one thought is the unknowable 'now.' By perceiving 'me', the ego consciousness divides one thing into two: past and future, you and me, right and wrong. We are constantly choosing between what we like and what we do not. Yet these are merely ideas, they do not actually exist.

'Endgaining' is the term Alexander gave to the unconscious tendency for people to become fixated on the result of a process, rather than paying attention to the means by which it is attained. It was his genius to describe how the habit of wanting to do what feels right comes from our deep-seated fear of being wrong and making mistakes. In Zen, we have a remarkably similar term, 'seeking mind.' This is a condition of constantly seeking outside the present moment. We are exceedingly insecure, for example, if we do not know. Continually we want more information and more experience to prove that we do know. The problem is that one answer is simply the seed for the next question&emdash;a never ending cycle of illusion. In Zen we say "take a step off a 100 foot pole." To truly awaken to the nature of reality it is necessary to let go of what we know and what we do not know. A great leap of faith is required to take us from the 'known to the unknown.'

A corollary to this is Alexander's discovery that he only had to think of reciting and it would affect the physical use of his body. He was one of the first Westerners, at least in the modern age, to realise that mind and body are one. This is a teaching, though, which has existed in Buddhism for 2500 years. In Zen we are taught to see with the whole body, likewise to hear - smell - taste - feel and think with the whole body. We are assured that if we practice this way single-mindedly we will attain satori, liberation from the illusion of self.

The six sense functions (including thinking) work automatically. No one has ever had to train themselves in order to see or hear or smell. Moreover, there is no central organising function (self) within us which controls us. For example, if the eyes are open, there is nothing inside of us which can give the order not to see. If the eyes are open, there is seeing. Even if we have never seen a certain object before, we can recognise it instantly. Likewise with the ears. No matter how many sounds we might hear at one time, they do not get jumbled up into one noise. There is nothing more mysterious than the powers of these sense functions. We do not even really know what thought is or where it is located.

This brings us back to the fact that we can only think one thought at a time. One thought must disappear before another can arise. This includes the thought of 'me.' To think "I am seeing such and such" is, in fact, two thoughts. Consequently the significance of mind and body being one unity is that when there is seeing, it isn't me who sees, but rather that there is only seeing, no seer and nothing seen. When there is thinking, there is only thought, no thinker and nothing thought of. This is our reality now, moment to moment. It means that we are always one with our environment.

Human beings are aware that something is wrong with their condition; they feel at odds with themselves and others, out of touch with their inner nature and disoriented. Conflict and a lack of sympathy seem to characterise our existence. Yet we are constantly seeking to unite the multiplicity of phenomena and reduce them to some ordered whole. 4

If only we could realise that everything is one! That each moment as-it-is is the result which we are seeking!

Astronomers estimate that the Milky Way with its hundreds of billions of stars is revolving at the speed of 500,000 miles per hour around its centre. At the molecular level, biologists tells us that 98% of the atoms in the human body are replaced in less than one year and that within the span of four years every single atom of the human body is replaced at least once. Yet no one is conscious of these facts in their everyday life. In the same way no one is aware of the extremely high rate of speed at which thought arises. In the Buddhist teaching, there are said to be thousands of changes per second, a constant flux of change. While it is not possible to change that reality, it is possible to stop interfering with it by trying to use it for our own illusory advantage. This brings us to the correlation between the 'non-doing' of inhibition and zazen.


"Once something is perceived

it is already past. For this reason

the moment now is unknowable."


Central to the teaching of Buddhism is the law of cause and effect. Past causes have created the present result. The present result will be the cause of future results. My Zen master always says that if we want to know our condition five, ten or even twenty years from now, all we have to do is look at our condition now. Each time we put off something we know we ought to do, we create the stimulus for putting it off again. Conversely, each time we withhold consent to react in a habitual manner, we break a link in the chain which binds us.

In other words, if you want to change your life, you must do it now. Essentially the greatest change we can make is to give up seeking results elsewhere and simply accept our reality as it is now. Zazen is the practice of abandoning ourselves to the present moment. If we can let go of our opinions and ideas in the form of expectations, intentions, and desire for meaning, we can see that each moment is exactly what we are seeking, even if we are anxious or confused. This also includes, of course, reflecting on the past and planning for the future, yet with the detachment of knowing that there is never anything other than the moment 'now.'

Alexander discovered in the course of seeking for a solution to his vocal problem that it was necessary at the critical moment to inhibit his habitual response of 'doing' what felt right. This was the first step. Others have since called this 'letting yourself be.' By stopping the unconscious tendency to depend on his habitual feelings of rightness, he could go on to the second step. This was to give a series of reasoned-out guiding orders. In this way he was able to achieve his end not by doing it, but by allowing it to happen. He had realised that mind and body are one. By resisting the impulse to 'do' and then projecting through thought the appropriate directions, he was able to give himself a new experience. Later he always emphasised that by withholding consent to do what feels right, the ends would come of themselves.

In Zen, the Buddhist teaching serves the purpose of guiding orders or directions. In fact we refer to the teaching as 'a finger pointing at the moon.' The 'moon' is liberation, awakening to the true nature of the self. The teachings of impermanence, no-self, and the timeless, tranquil nature of the unknowable moment 'now', all point to the necessity of forgetting the ego-self. The precepts and the Bodhisattva vows, on one hand, and the practice of zazen on the other, provide the means whereby to attain it. In any case, it is the moon which is the goal and not the finger. As in the Alexander work, inevitably there is a tendency at the beginning to 'do' the practice of directions. However, with time and perseverance, together with a skilful teacher, the habit of 'doing' will give way to 'just being.' This is the ability to devote ourselves completely to each task simply for its own sake. No longer is there finger or moon, for we realise that essentially moon and finger are one. We are then free to work 100% for the sake of all living beings.

It is not my intention to say that Zen and the Alexander Technique are the same. Certainly different people will view them in different ways. Perhaps many will think I am trying to compare two things which are on completely different levels. However, I do think that for some people they can be compatible practices and even be complementary in a beneficial manner. Alexander did speak of religion in a way strikingly similar to Zen when he said:

The essence of the religious outlook is that religion should not be kept in a compartment by itself, but that it should be the ever present guiding principle of life underlying the "daily round", the "common task". So also it is possible to apply this principle of life in the daily round of one's activities without involving a loss of attention in these activities.5

This is the way of 'everyday mind'.

Zen is the practice and realisation of transcending the dualism of self-and-other through attention to all activities in our everyday life. Many people associate Zen with a certain posture of sitting cross-legged, but this is merely a position of 'mechanical advantage.' This would be akin to thinking that the 'monkey position' is the Alexander Technique. In fact, zazen is not meditation. Zazen is zazen. It is both the end as well as the means by which to forget the distinction between self and meditation. In this connection, Alexander was possibly right when he wrote:

You see, a person cannot capitulate to subconscious guidance to the extent which 'meditation' demands in practice, without seriously affecting the psychophysical self in reaction to living.6

Zen is to forget the self whether sitting still or in activity. Zen is to breathe with the whole body, to work, laugh, play, and cry with the whole body. Yet to truly make that our own and not simply get stuck in intellectual understanding requires great effort.

As we approach the end of the twentieth century, the world is undergoing tremendous change. There is a wide array of extremely serious problems facing human life on this planet&emdash;widespread destruction of the environment, overpopulation, AIDS, severe famine and poverty, unprecedented crime and violence. What will be the future role of spirituality? Can the Alexander work provide a spiritual discipline to help us face these problems? Towards the end of his life, Alexander said, "After working for a lifetime in this new field, I am conscious that the knowledge gained is but a beginning." He knew that the "knowledge of the self is fundamental to all other." What new horizons are there for the Alexander work? Can it provide the means whereby people can learn to stop the increasing greed for instant gratification, for our constant desire to know that we are right? Can it truly enhance the knowledge of the self?

For me it is clear that Alexander put his finger directly on the problem when he said, "You want to feel out whether you are right or not. I am giving you a conception to eradicate that. I don't want you to care a damn if you're right or not. Directly you don't care if you're right or not, the impeding obstacle is gone."7

That obstacle is nothing other than the ego-self.

- Daigaku Rumme


ENDNOTES

1. Armstrong, Karen, A History of God, Alfred A. Knopf:New York (1993) p.172, 338.
2. Armstrong, p.338.
3. Alexander, F. M., The Resurrection of the Body, edited by Edward Maisel, Delta:New York (1974) p.158.
4. Armstrong, Op. cit., pp.101-2.
5. Maisel, Op .cit., p. 8.
6. Maisel, Op. cit., p.xliv.
7. Maisel, Op. cit., p.9.
8. Calligraphy & translation by Daigaku Rumme.


POSTSCRIPT

For those readers interested in any of the points related to Zen that are briefly mentioned in this article, please see The Essence of Zen by my master, Sekkei Harada Roshi. This book, recently published by Kodansha International, is a translation I did of a collection of Dharma talks given by him in Europe and the US. The material covered in this book presents the basic teaching of Zen in relatively easy-to-understand terms. Information about his monastery can be found on the web at : http://www.semui.co.jp/hosshinji

May all beings awaken to their innate freedom!


ABOUT THE WRITER

Daigaku Rumme was born in Mason City, Iowa, USA in 1950. His father was sent as a missionary to Japan in 1961 where he lived until he returned to Iowa for college. He graduated in 1972, as, he writes: "a properly dis-illusioned young man. I was unable to think of any sort of occupation which seemed mean-ingful, plus I wanted to do something that would change the world, not just be part of the status quo."

At that time he came across a copy of Shunryu Suzuki's book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind and eventually, in 1976, decided to enter Hosshinji, a Japanese Zen Monastery. He ordained as a monk two years later, in 1978.

While living in Japan, and in return trips to the States, he he has taken hundreds of Alexander lessons with many different teachers. He continues living at the monastery&emdash;meditating, studying and acting as a translator for his revered spiritual master, Sekkei Harada Roshi.

Hosshinji Fushihara 45-3,
Obama-Shi Fukui-Ken
917-0054 Japan.

Email - hosshin@lilac.ocn.ne.jp

 

Tsü Shin Shu Gen

Throughout the body are hands and eyes 8


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