The Calculus of Mu
By Wesley Burnett
The first Koan I ever met is the one about a dog. Has he Buddha Nature or no? Well, no, Mu. I'm still there and probably will be for the rest of my days. Not that I'm complaining. Mu is one of the great adventures into bewilderment and the center of wonderment and just when you think you have it all sorted out, Mu pops up with something new forcing you to start all over again but never in the same place.
So does the puppy have Buddha Nature? No, of course not. What a stupid question. When all is said and done, he's just a bunch of atoms out there hanging around in space doing nothing much at all. Many students will speculate on that for a while and move on. But wait a minute, what is an atom? Well, just a batch of particles, some seemingly glued together and others kind of free agents, like the electron or the photon. There they go on and on, but once they lose their umph, what is left? Nothing. There is just nothing there, pure emptiness. More than likely they never amounted to much anyway.
Until fairly recently, molecules were thought to be the fundamental stuff of being. Until we started colliding them at almost unbelievable speeds. They fly apart into even smaller things, leaving behind only a streak, more like a hop, skip and jump on a photosensitive surface. And then, well, they either reassemble in a flash or disappear into who knows where or what.
Hmm, we have to ask ourselves, just what a particle is. Simple, right? It’s a thing that can't be further divided. Except it's not that simple. Currently, there are at least 9 concepts of what a particle is. One of them holds, in pure theory only, that the most fundamental particles we can identify can indeed be divided into yet more really strange things that just sit there and vibrate in multidimensional space, so multidimensional that we can't begin to conceive of anything like it. Another says a particle is what a particle detector finds, so if it has found one, it must be a particle.
The rest hem-and-haw around with ideas that admit we aren't certain or that flat out deny that the most fundamental particles consist of anything concrete at all.
So what is to be said about our poor puppy? Of course he lacks Buddha nature. We can't even be sure he exists. At best, he just seems like an assortment of stuff that sits around out there in space, shaking, shimmering and vibrating, a mass of fluff that may amount to nothing. And, so it happens, what is good for a puppy is equally good for you and me and the moon. Just a bunch of fluff that probably amounts to nothing floating around in space that may amount to nothing. And here we have the greatest delusion of them all. That I might amount to something. In Master Dogen’s fascicle “Thusness”, he says “You are an accoutrement that exists in the entire world of the ten directions. How do you know it to be thus? You know it because your body and mind are not you; they appear in the entire world of the ten directions.”
Yet in the world I live in, puppies seem to grow up to be dogs who produce yet more puppies, each of a kind, and each a totally unique individual. Dogs don't sire ducks.
What is it then that brings all this nonexistent fluff together to form something that together makes a unique critter that likes to play ball with me, another unique being. Well, of course it is the language of God: Calculus. Or to put it another way, Buddha nature is Calculus. Me, my dog and the moon are assembled through calculus, i.e., Buddha nature, and thereby me, my dog and the moon are Buddha nature. We just can't help ourselves.
One might object that Mu, when seen this way, is simply too mechanistic, too objective. It lacks room for intuition. To this, one can only say that anyone who feels there isn't room for intuition in calculus simply hasn't done enough calculus to know. Calculus gives unique insights into everything from the smallest of the small (so small that we have to wonder if it exists at all), to the biggest things in this universe and possibly beyond — things so large we might wonder if they exist at all. Besides, it helps us build better bridges.
How might Dogen respond to all this? We can only imagine, but I would like to think it would be something like: YOU PEOPLE HAVE ALL THE POWER TO ENTER INTO THE VERY INNER CIRCLE OF NATURE WITH ALL ITS WONDROUS CONTRADICTIONS, CONSTANCIES AND SYMMETRIES. It's enough to drive an old skin bag like me, who entirely lacked such resources, into paroxysms of jealousy. But look, let me ask you this, with all the power to understand, WHY ARE YOU SCREWING UP SO BADLY?
Gee, I don’t know Master Dogen. I guess I could give it some thought while I drive down to the Quickie Mart to buy a soft drink in a plastic bottle or how about I let my Mu practice continue to weave itself into my daily life and go fetch some water for my puppy and me. We know, each in our own way, how to quench our thirst.
By Wesley Burnett
The first Koan I ever met is the one about a dog. Has he Buddha Nature or no? Well, no, Mu. I'm still there and probably will be for the rest of my days. Not that I'm complaining. Mu is one of the great adventures into bewilderment and the center of wonderment and just when you think you have it all sorted out, Mu pops up with something new forcing you to start all over again but never in the same place.
So does the puppy have Buddha Nature? No, of course not. What a stupid question. When all is said and done, he's just a bunch of atoms out there hanging around in space doing nothing much at all. Many students will speculate on that for a while and move on. But wait a minute, what is an atom? Well, just a batch of particles, some seemingly glued together and others kind of free agents, like the electron or the photon. There they go on and on, but once they lose their umph, what is left? Nothing. There is just nothing there, pure emptiness. More than likely they never amounted to much anyway.
Until fairly recently, molecules were thought to be the fundamental stuff of being. Until we started colliding them at almost unbelievable speeds. They fly apart into even smaller things, leaving behind only a streak, more like a hop, skip and jump on a photosensitive surface. And then, well, they either reassemble in a flash or disappear into who knows where or what.
Hmm, we have to ask ourselves, just what a particle is. Simple, right? It’s a thing that can't be further divided. Except it's not that simple. Currently, there are at least 9 concepts of what a particle is. One of them holds, in pure theory only, that the most fundamental particles we can identify can indeed be divided into yet more really strange things that just sit there and vibrate in multidimensional space, so multidimensional that we can't begin to conceive of anything like it. Another says a particle is what a particle detector finds, so if it has found one, it must be a particle.
The rest hem-and-haw around with ideas that admit we aren't certain or that flat out deny that the most fundamental particles consist of anything concrete at all.
So what is to be said about our poor puppy? Of course he lacks Buddha nature. We can't even be sure he exists. At best, he just seems like an assortment of stuff that sits around out there in space, shaking, shimmering and vibrating, a mass of fluff that may amount to nothing. And, so it happens, what is good for a puppy is equally good for you and me and the moon. Just a bunch of fluff that probably amounts to nothing floating around in space that may amount to nothing. And here we have the greatest delusion of them all. That I might amount to something. In Master Dogen’s fascicle “Thusness”, he says “You are an accoutrement that exists in the entire world of the ten directions. How do you know it to be thus? You know it because your body and mind are not you; they appear in the entire world of the ten directions.”
Yet in the world I live in, puppies seem to grow up to be dogs who produce yet more puppies, each of a kind, and each a totally unique individual. Dogs don't sire ducks.
What is it then that brings all this nonexistent fluff together to form something that together makes a unique critter that likes to play ball with me, another unique being. Well, of course it is the language of God: Calculus. Or to put it another way, Buddha nature is Calculus. Me, my dog and the moon are assembled through calculus, i.e., Buddha nature, and thereby me, my dog and the moon are Buddha nature. We just can't help ourselves.
One might object that Mu, when seen this way, is simply too mechanistic, too objective. It lacks room for intuition. To this, one can only say that anyone who feels there isn't room for intuition in calculus simply hasn't done enough calculus to know. Calculus gives unique insights into everything from the smallest of the small (so small that we have to wonder if it exists at all), to the biggest things in this universe and possibly beyond — things so large we might wonder if they exist at all. Besides, it helps us build better bridges.
How might Dogen respond to all this? We can only imagine, but I would like to think it would be something like: YOU PEOPLE HAVE ALL THE POWER TO ENTER INTO THE VERY INNER CIRCLE OF NATURE WITH ALL ITS WONDROUS CONTRADICTIONS, CONSTANCIES AND SYMMETRIES. It's enough to drive an old skin bag like me, who entirely lacked such resources, into paroxysms of jealousy. But look, let me ask you this, with all the power to understand, WHY ARE YOU SCREWING UP SO BADLY?
Gee, I don’t know Master Dogen. I guess I could give it some thought while I drive down to the Quickie Mart to buy a soft drink in a plastic bottle or how about I let my Mu practice continue to weave itself into my daily life and go fetch some water for my puppy and me. We know, each in our own way, how to quench our thirst.
A NOT HAIKU
by Karen Burnett
Rain last night.
Woods rejoice
Peace abounds
While Earth smiles.
by Karen Burnett
Rain last night.
Woods rejoice
Peace abounds
While Earth smiles.
Plum Blossoms That Are Not Plum Blossoms
By Wesley Burnett
Prunus is a genus that includes a wide variety of fruits such as plums, apricots, almonds, cherries and a batch more. When Dogan writes so beautifully about plums, he is writing about a thing that is neither a plum nor anything like a plum as we know it. Rather he is writing about Prunus mume, or the Japanese apricot. It is found in Japan, Korea and China and it is indeed an early bloomer, in most places blooming in February.
And the Japanese apricot is important in the folklore of East Asia. The flowers, like those of rosebud in the southern USA and Europe’s closely related Judas tree, arise directly from the twigs without a stem, and are said to represent the five blessing: health, wealth, virtue, old age and natural death. The fruits are used for jams and preserves, eaten raw, or drunk in the form of scented teas, wines or liquor. They can be candied, made into sauce or vinegar and preserved in sugar or salt. In China, they form the base of several medical potions.
Dogan certainly knew wherein he spoke when he chose to equate the blossoms with us, Buddha and the universe. Plants and seeds can be bought and raised in North America, but being serious about the environment, we don’t recommend it. There is always the danger that exotic plants, however benign they may seem, will go feral to the detriment of our own native plants. Unfortunately, most of us will never have the pleasure of seeing the Japanese apricot in full glory.
While North America has many early blooming exotic and domestic trees, there are none that comes even close to playing the same role as the Japanese apricot in East Asia. Our forests are too diverse, too overcrowded with exotics, and our native species too cryptic to inspiring that kind of work awe. Nonetheless, there is nothing wrong with being inspired by whatever surrounds us everyday.
By Wesley Burnett
Prunus is a genus that includes a wide variety of fruits such as plums, apricots, almonds, cherries and a batch more. When Dogan writes so beautifully about plums, he is writing about a thing that is neither a plum nor anything like a plum as we know it. Rather he is writing about Prunus mume, or the Japanese apricot. It is found in Japan, Korea and China and it is indeed an early bloomer, in most places blooming in February.
And the Japanese apricot is important in the folklore of East Asia. The flowers, like those of rosebud in the southern USA and Europe’s closely related Judas tree, arise directly from the twigs without a stem, and are said to represent the five blessing: health, wealth, virtue, old age and natural death. The fruits are used for jams and preserves, eaten raw, or drunk in the form of scented teas, wines or liquor. They can be candied, made into sauce or vinegar and preserved in sugar or salt. In China, they form the base of several medical potions.
Dogan certainly knew wherein he spoke when he chose to equate the blossoms with us, Buddha and the universe. Plants and seeds can be bought and raised in North America, but being serious about the environment, we don’t recommend it. There is always the danger that exotic plants, however benign they may seem, will go feral to the detriment of our own native plants. Unfortunately, most of us will never have the pleasure of seeing the Japanese apricot in full glory.
While North America has many early blooming exotic and domestic trees, there are none that comes even close to playing the same role as the Japanese apricot in East Asia. Our forests are too diverse, too overcrowded with exotics, and our native species too cryptic to inspiring that kind of work awe. Nonetheless, there is nothing wrong with being inspired by whatever surrounds us everyday.
PRECEPTS
by Karen Burnett
Yesterday in my window a paper wasp
Built her nursery.
Today I sprayed her with poison.
She writhed and died.
I knocked down the nursery.
Thinking of Syria.
by Karen Burnett
Yesterday in my window a paper wasp
Built her nursery.
Today I sprayed her with poison.
She writhed and died.
I knocked down the nursery.
Thinking of Syria.
ZAZEN WITH A TROWEL
By Wesley Burnett
While reading Dogan about meditating, it occurred to me that zazen is a lot like doing archaeology . By doing archaeology I don’t mean the old kind, a mad hunt for museum quality artifacts done with bulldozers, but the new kind done with a trowel, a concerted attempt to understand everything about how people lived from every scrap they left behind. You sit in an excavation square scraping out dirt and everything else, centimeter by centimeter. It takes skill but very little, and a lot of concentration and focus. And attention: to what your hand feels through the trowel and what you hear, as you will often feel or hear before you see. You must not let the mind wander or brood about what might have been, like “were I banker I wouldn’t be sitting in this hole in this silly position.” Beginners and amateurs often ask, “what are you looking for,” or “what have you found?” Answers: I’ve no idea what I’m looking for, and if I’ve found anything, it probably wouldn’t be much. Nor would I be likely to know if it’s anything important. That will be determined by other experts far, far away laboring in laboratories, possible many years hence. In fact I’ve found nothing so often I’ve come to expect it now. Day by day, scratching at the earth and there is nothing. An entire season of nothing. But guess what? Nothing is useful too. Ah, Zazen with a trowel.
By Wesley Burnett
While reading Dogan about meditating, it occurred to me that zazen is a lot like doing archaeology . By doing archaeology I don’t mean the old kind, a mad hunt for museum quality artifacts done with bulldozers, but the new kind done with a trowel, a concerted attempt to understand everything about how people lived from every scrap they left behind. You sit in an excavation square scraping out dirt and everything else, centimeter by centimeter. It takes skill but very little, and a lot of concentration and focus. And attention: to what your hand feels through the trowel and what you hear, as you will often feel or hear before you see. You must not let the mind wander or brood about what might have been, like “were I banker I wouldn’t be sitting in this hole in this silly position.” Beginners and amateurs often ask, “what are you looking for,” or “what have you found?” Answers: I’ve no idea what I’m looking for, and if I’ve found anything, it probably wouldn’t be much. Nor would I be likely to know if it’s anything important. That will be determined by other experts far, far away laboring in laboratories, possible many years hence. In fact I’ve found nothing so often I’ve come to expect it now. Day by day, scratching at the earth and there is nothing. An entire season of nothing. But guess what? Nothing is useful too. Ah, Zazen with a trowel.