RETREAT REPORT BY D.S. | Getting The Buddha Mind

I approached the Ch’an retreat with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. I was excited at the prospect of what a week of meditation could do for me; but I was wary of the kind of commitment or loss that I might have to face. This commitment, I knew, could be capable of evoking the most profound sort of agony and insecurity. Generally no person is completely willing to cast everything away, to stand alone and search for himself anew. We always try to hold something back, whether it be in the form of a hope, fear, guilt, complacency, love, or hate. Like some great Rock of Gibraltar, it’s our last refuge before the unknown of open sea.

On the first day my suspicions were confirmed. The Master presented a new face to us-stern, dignified, and sharpened with the greatest urgency. No longer was he so patient and tolerant; rather the ultimatum was simple and direct: In this week you can become enlightened if you wish. There is no doubt about this. You must forget everything else, and without concern for body or mind, throw your whole self into this question. If you do anything less than make a total effort, then you will waste this most precious opportunity. If that is the case, then you should not be here!

I was surprised and frightened at what he had done. The Master had stolen our complacency, and thrown this one essential decision entirely upon us. In view of the respect that I have for the Master, myself, and our relationship, how could I possibly shirk this responsibility?

For a number of years Buddhist Studies has been my life’s work. I felt in the past that I had some understanding of the matter of man’s spiritual life, and could make some contribution to its study. But how could I ever really dare to conjecture about and teach Buddhism, or speak about practicing Buddhism, if I couldn’t even summon the integrity and courage to face the single most essential issue? I would be the greatest liar to even think to discuss it.

Such thoughts as these began to boil up in my mind. The week passed in a turmoil of emotions. Sometimes I felt guilty or condemned, incurably corrupt and weak. Sometimes I was very sad, or angry and frustrated. Sometimes I felt regretful, and sometimes I felt exalted and full of bliss.

Sometimes I felt as if I had gone too far. There was no possibility of finding comfort in turning back. All security was gone, and I looked on, terrified, as if some abyss of incurable insanity yawned before me. Everything was different, and I felt very shaken and in awe of the true immensity of the question we were asking. It was no toy, but very serious indeed! Could I really trust these strange bald-headed people, speaking a different language, and with mannerisms different from anything I had known? What if the Master misunderstood, or wasn’t really in control!

Daily I poured these emotions out to the Master; I never felt so emotionally raw and exposed. Sometimes he would console me, sometimes praise me, and sometimes confront me in the most direct and devastating manner. Often I was terrified of the interview.

One evening my meditation got very powerful. I felt a huge flow of energy and bliss, and I was very taken in by it all. I was sure I would make it in the very next meditation period. I sat anxiously through the Master’s evening lecture-it went on and on. Even when we entered the meditation hall he kept talking. When was he going to stop and let us sit! As the time approached, the energy and assuredness grew. I sat down as if I was never coming back again, certainly I would have a great enlightenment! I concentrated with all my might; the energy welled up and I could feel it pounding at the top of my skull. I pushed harder and harder, and didn’t dare to let go, just waiting and struggling for what must come! Suddenly I just gave out and collapsed, exhausted. The pain was extraordinary. “What a fool, ” I thought. “What a self-righteous overblown fool. You are filled with demons and corruption.” That night I went to sleep.

The next morning the Master asked me what had happened the previous night, and how late I stayed up meditating. I told him, and he showed absolutely no sympathy. He looked straight at me, right into me, and said, “I told you that sleep was not a concern for you. Who told you to sleep? In China some people forego sleep for ninety days, and you can’t do it for even part of a week. Here you get a little experience in meditation (imitating me), Oh, I sit Ch’an! and give up, thinking you’ve got somehting. It’s nothing! You simply have no determination for the Path!”

The last words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I was devastated, so ashamed. There it was, right out in the open, all the doubt, fear, and weakness that I so skillfully hid from myself and others. The issue was actually very clear and straightforward-Do I really want liberation? I could feel all the old obstructions pulling at me-love of women, fear of family pressure, love of leisure, attachment to friends, fear for my life, etc. Yet, truly, liberation was most important. I made up my mind; there was no further need for emotional dramatics and display. The question of enlightenment became intensely personal, more so than it had ever been before. I felt this desire for freedom and liberation from deep down inside.

The next day, around mid-morning, I was sitting in meditation, somewhat sleepy, when suddenly I woke up and a cool calm came over me. “If I really want liberation, then this searching for some grand ‘Wu’ is totally absurd. All this Buddhism, this picturesque myth, has to go. All these years I’ve enslaved myself. I cannot sit here any longer. I must talk to the Master.” I felt shaken up, but resolved and fresh. I wanted to roar at my foolishness-the whole world I had so carefully constructed and maintained about myself. The Master walked into the room; I pointed at him and said I wanted to speak to him. We went into the interview room. I was exploding, birds were singing outside. I sat opposite him, full front, and said, “Buddhism really is empty, isn’t it?” He broke into a smile, I was just bubbling forth to him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, embrace him; there was so much pouring out. He said, “Congratulations, you finally have something, a very, very small bit of fruit.” I said, “But I still have doubts!” He said, “Forget them, don’t worry. You may go outside and wander around. Don’t sit anymore.”

I was shaken; I felt wild like a raging beast. I said, “I’m going!” and stormed through the hall and out the door. I wandered aimlessly. The sky was overcast, the day chill and windy. A lone crow cawed wildly at me from a tree-top. The whole world was in raw untameable motion. I felt completely exposed and alone. I went to the cliff overlooking the ocean. The wind howled fiercely through the trees, and waves rushed across the bay. I felt what it was like to be homeless.

I slept, and that evening the sky had cleared and all was calm. At dusk Dan Wota and I walked to the cliff. We found a large boulder and sat looking across the bay, out to sea, speechless. The evening was gentle, and everything so fresh and at peace. The air was rich with the smell of the ocean and the sky alive with the cool shades of dusk. It was all so clear. Finally we started back down the beach. I could feel the small stones beneath my feet, worn round and smooth by the waves. I picked one up; it had a slight dimple on one side. It seemed such a perfect expression of the way I felt, of everything. I thought to take it with me, held it tightly in my hand, and started up the hill. But it really bothered me. I knew I just couldn’t keep it. It was wrong. Halfway up the cliff I threw the rock way out, watched it arc through the dusk, and heard it clatter on the beach below, where it belonged. I felt good.

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