The Perfection of Wisdom teachings say, over
and over again, that a bodhisattva must be fearless. This is a liberating, but
daunting, theology.
[Caveat:
what follows may be difficult to hear, and you might not want to read further.]
The jubilant
side of the Perfection of Wisdom
teachings is that if there is nothing to stand on – no teacher, no teachings,
no doctrine – we are free. If the formations of our mind, rising and falling,
have no own being, then the mind can, indeed, be far beyond hindrances and
fear.
Starting
with yogic gurus in the late 70's, to the present time of studying with Zen teachers, I have had
great devotion and also, I suppose, high hopes. But, in general, gurus and roshis
have often betrayed us with sexual crimes or abandonment. Teachers, like all
of us humans, seem to be just as broken and as full of suffering, as I am. So it
is with great doubt that I now question whether anyone can actually guide me or
teach me or help me. Or do anything more
than point at the moon. (And I do see the moon.)
Recently, when
I realized, with some flash of clarity, that “teachers” have nothing to stand on,
that they are one more “karmic construction,” I felt liberated. With no
clinging to this deep seated need to be pulled up to a higher plane by another,
I felt free. “Yes! It is over, I thought.” This decades-long entanglement with
gurus and teachers.
But the
shadow side to the Perfection of Wisdom
teachings is the realization that there is
actually nothing to stand on. Instead of the fuzzy feeling of interconnection,
we are ultimately alone, in the same way that when we are dying, we are
ultimately alone. We may have dharma friends who offer love and consolation and
support – to the extent possible – but ultimately we are alone. We may care
deeply for each other as spiritual friends, but, in the end, we are alone.
And that is
very scary. That is why the Perfection of
Wisdom teachings say, over and over again, that a bodhisattva must be
fearless. This is a liberating, but daunting, theology.
