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John Greer, Ph.D.
Email: jgreer@memphis.edu
Elementary Education Professor U of M
Meditation Instructor
Dharma Memphis contributor
Zen Photography website:
http://www.zenandphotography.com/john.htm
CONTRIBUTIONS BY JOHN GREER
ESSAY ON THE INNER TEACHER
Take refuge in yourselves, not in anything else.
Don’t look for things that are far away.
Everything is in your own heart. Be an island to yourself.
Buddha
In this country we have a serious problem when it comes to the way we think of
ourselves. Self-concept problems are rampant; even self-hatred is common. Yet it
has been reported that in Tibet this problem doesn’t exist. They don’t even have
terms for such syndromes. How can this be? Of course, the cultures are different
in a multitude of ways, but there is one very striking comparison that goes to
the heart of the question. In Tibet, where just about everyone is Buddhist,
there is a widely held belief that the divine lies within every human being.
While this reality is deeply buried, and unmanifest in most people, the
possibility of its realization is a given in their culture and way of life. In
America, on the other hand, the majority has been raised on the idea of original
sin. A spiritual version of inherited debt, we carry this heavy burden over the
span of our lives, with a palpable sense of unworthiness hanging over everything
that we do. When Americans subsequently hear Buddha’s message that our goodness
is innate, it rarely penetrates those long established beliefs that we have been
taught. It is obvious from the meaningless violence and selfish behavior that
dominate the nightly news, that man is not perfect. When it is explained that
such behavior is the result of ignorance, and not inherent evil, few understand.
As a nation, we seem convinced that the only way to salvation is through the
actions of a savior. We cannot believe that the picture painted by
Buddha was meant for us. And in a sense, our skepticism is accurate, since we
believe that it is our egos to which Buddha was pointing. Clearly, our egos are
not divine. They are notoriously small minded, petty and selfish. And in an
absolute sense, they aren’t even real.
Buddha was talking of our true identity, and it is on this that we can rely as
we embark on our spiritual journey. Hidden under the mask of the ego is a
Presence that longs to reveal itself. And it will, if we can just get out of our
own way. As the old saying expresses so well, we do not have to push the river.
Suzuki compares it to the unfolding of a flower. He says that it blooms out of
an inner necessity, and that a similar overflowing produces our own spiritual
blossom. We must simply remove distractions, and clear the path. The Precepts
and the Noble Eight Fold Path spell out all that is needed. The “Buddha within”
will do the rest.
This is an essential aspect of the vision presented by Buddha, and it has never
been more relevant than it is today. Modern society is not an easy environment
in which to live. We find ourselves overwhelmed and stressed out. We are plagued
with ulcers, migraines, heart attacks and depression, and a majority of our
citizens are neither happy or satisfied. There is clearly a need for meaning.
Yet even a cursory introduction to Buddhism outlines a spiritual path that is
far from easy. We, in effect, are told to experience Buddha’s experience. We
cannot reach the “Promised Land” by adopting prescribed rituals or a set of
beliefs. There is no quick fix. Of course there are very significant benefits to
be gained from a regular practice that don’t require the higher levels of
attainment, but enlightenment is the only way to realize the liberation and
freedom described by Buddha. How can anyone, born in such a cynical time, have
any confidence in his or her ability to reach the goal?
Of course, the answer to that is no one can. Our egos are a patchwork quilt of
habits and conditioning, and offer no hope of success. But buried beneath all
those accumulated patterns of thinking and behavior, there is something vast and
fully capable of accomplishing the task. Masters of many traditions have
recognized this divine element within, and the critical role it plays in any
spiritual endeavor. This is the message the modern audience needs to hear. We do
not need to do it alone. Once we make contact with our inner teacher, once we
are still and quiet enough to hear its whispered guidance, we can be more
sanguine about our chances for realization.
Grass growing up through cement How many times have you seen grass pushing up
through a cement sidewalk or patio? It is a very common occurrence, and one that
we have all noticed many times. Even when steps are taken to subdue the growth,
over time, it usually perseveres. Have you ever wondered how that soft, tender
little plant overcomes such overwhelming odds? Think about it. Cement is a
substance designed for hardness and durability. Structures made out of it last
indefinitely. Yet, little green plants find a way to poke their tiny shoots
through this formidable barrier. They only need the smallest of openings. This
is a powerful metaphor for the manner in which the divine seed buried deep
within each of us manages to push through many decades, even lifetimes, of
conditioning and mental habits. A small crack or crevice in this thick shell,
can sometimes be caused by family crisis or sickness, or deliberately created by
reading and meditation. And this is all it takes for this living wisdom to find
its way into your consciousness.
Homesickness Remember when you went to camp for the first time, or stayed with a
favorite uncle for a week in the summer? Did you get homesick? Even in the midst
of the fun and excitement of the new adventure, you wistfully thought of home.
The counselors could distract you temporarily with games and activities, but at
the end of the day, when things quieted down, the nostalgia for home returned.
It is a familiar and recurring phenomenon that can change plans and shorten
trips. There is within everyone a similar yearning to return to the Source. It
is has been recognized by all of the wisdom traditions. But in the noise of life
and the pressured schedules of our days, we are seldom quiet or still enough to
perceive it. We may not be able to put into words why we begin our spiritual
search, but most likely it has something to do with being homesick, with having
a vague sense of being incomplete, separate and alone. And if you begin to
meditate, you will, as so many others before you, sooner or later get the sense
that something is calling you home. It whispers clues to you at every turn, in
case you have forgotten the way.
Birdsong beginning inside the egg The Sufi poet Rumi used this image to convey
the idea that we are born with an innate wisdom. Before the fledgling sings a
note, it already knows the tune. It begins life with the song it will always
sing. We too are born with a song inside, but it is hard to hear above the din
of our modern day world. Our days are, indeed, filled with music, but it is only
played for the ears. Radios and CD players are always in use, but we never hear
the melody that echoes within. If we ever do hear it sung, by a teacher or
seeker of wisdom, it will resonate deeply throughout our being. It is the old,
familiar tune that we never quite forgot, and when we find someone who knows the
words, we will quickly learn them by heart.
Life in the seed This is a metaphor often used for the truth that lives within
each of us. To look at a seed lying on the hard earth of winter, it can be
difficult to imagine its potential. A hard, dry husk or shell hides well the
tender life that lies at its core. If we didn’t know better, who would suspect
that such an insignificant object could give birth to a giant tree like the ones
that tower far above so many of us. There is a very clear parallel found in
human beings. As each seed contains life, each of us holds the divine at our
deepest core. Called the Buddha within, it is a latent Presence that awaits the
stirring of the seeker. If we associate with persons of virtue and wisdom, it is
like placing that seed in fertile soil. If we begin to meditate on a daily
basis, it is like watering it regularly. The Buddha that dwells in our heart
will sprout, and become an active participant in our spiritual growth, if only
given encouragement.
Homing instinct Many different species are well known for their remarkable
ability to find their way home. Family dogs, lost during a cross-country trip,
have turned up at the front door of their joyful owners’ house weeks and even
months later. We have all heard of the pigeon’s prowess in this area, and man
has utilized their reliable sense of direction for the purposes of carrying and
returning messages. The salmon return from wide ranging tours of the oceans to
spawn in the same small streams in which they were born. And even insects have
such ability. Monarch butterflies are said to migrate as far as four thousand
miles to specific locations in other continents. Is it so far fetched to believe
that we also have a homing instinct? The theme of exile is very commonly found
in the mythology of mankind, and our spiritual efforts have been likened to a
return home. This is, in effect, what Buddha is expressing. We have forgotten
whom we are, and from whence we have come. We are like strangers in a foreign
land. As humans we sense our separation, and long to return to the Source. This
yearning comes from our deepest level of being, from something that remembers
how to get home.
Water seeking its own level The characteristic of water to seek its own level is
well known. Unless obstructed or restrained, it will naturally flow to the
lowest level, and rest in that position. This action is universal to all water,
as long as it is in the fluid state. If, of course, it is frozen, movement is
blocked, and the return to its natural state impossible. This offers a metaphor
for the behavior of the inner teacher, the innate wisdom at our core. When it is
unobstructed, it will automatically seek its natural state. This state is
wholeness. It is the return to its true identity. It cannot make this journey,
however, if it is frozen into a stationary, solid shape; into the mistaken
identities we call our egos. But a serious Buddhist practice can melt the rigid
boundaries of who we think we are. Like an ice sculpture in the sun of
awareness, the limitations of these static roles we have been playing can thaw,
and the water of our being can return, formless, to the incredible ocean of
life.
The houseplant Many people decorate with potted plants, placing them in various
locations throughout the house. Wherever they end up, the key to their
continuing health is the availability of light. Accustomed to the sunshine of
the natural environment, adaptation to the artificial setting of an enclosed
structure can be difficult. The plant will, therefore do everything it can to
draw nearer to the light. Within a few days, the stems of the plant will begin
to lean towards the nearest window, and after a couple of weeks the bias for the
light will be obvious. Plants are phototropic, or light seeking, and will take
every measure possible to reach it. It has been said that we are spiritually
tropic. Just as plants reach towards the light, we are drawn to the spiritual.
When we read something that strikes a familiar cord, or hear a talk that
resonates long afterward, this inclination towards the truth is being felt. Our
minds can get easily confused, and lost in the apparent complexity of things,
but our hearts recognize the truth and gravitate to it. When we can bask in
spiritual light, we grow and thrive, but if deprived of it, we shrivel like a
plant placed in the dark.
We are looking for the horse we are riding This is a colorful metaphor suggested
by Ajah Kahn to convey the fact that we are closer to the truth than we ever
imagine. As has been expressed by others, what we are seeking is the seeker. But
we are looking in all the wrong places. As our mount carries us rapidly through
the years of our life, we are so distracted by the passing scenery that we miss
the reality within. Through the practice of meditation, we can still our racing
heart and put our minds out to pasture. Then we can get a good, close look at
ourselves. The answer lies right where we are, in this very being we thought we
knew so well. We must get to know our true identity, and it is hard to do so
when we are galloping at high speeds, always in a hurry to get someplace else.
In the stillness of deep meditation we can take the mask off, and finally meet
the Seeker who has been along for the entire ride.
The home keys in music For centuries, composers have used a technique to capture
the interest of the listeners and draw them into the composition. When the piece
begins, it does so in a certain key. This is called the home key, and the entire
work is anchored around it. As the composer develops the composition,
introducing different themes and variations to entertain the audience, she
modulates or shifts from one key to another. When heard at a performance, this
harmonic movement away from the home key serves to heighten interest and builds
a low but perceptible level of tension in the listener. This mild sense of
dissonance translates into a subtle urge to return. When the performance
approaches the end, and draws closer to the original point of departure, there
is a very noticeable desire in the listener for closure. A pleasant sense of
resolution and peace is felt when the home key is once again heard in the final
notes that are played. If, however, the audience is left hanging, there is a
clear feeling of being incomplete. This can be likened to the pull towards the
spiritual that most feel at some point in their lives. This is the inner teacher
calling us home. Like music, it can be subtle, and hard to define, but it is
very persistent. Until it finds closure and rest in that which it seeks, the one
who senses it will be restless and unsettled, like listeners yearning for the
resolution of dissonance into harmony.
Life in the winter tree When you look at a tree in the coldest days of winter,
it is hard to discern any sign of life. If we didn’t know what happens come
spring, we could easily assume that it was dead. Lacking even the buds of March,
it looks skeletal against the gray sky. This is reminiscent of the way we
perceive persons who appear spiritually barren, and disconnected from the vital
signs of understanding that grow with practice. Witnessing their unskillful and
distracted behavior, it is hard to imagine that they could become dedicated
practitioners. But just like everyone else, they have a silent partner deep
within. Their innate wisdom will stir, and sooner or later make itself known,
when given even the opportunity. None of us seek alone. We all get help. In
fact, in the truest sense, it is not we who are seeking but life, playing hide
and seek with itself.
The clay Buddha There is a story told by Dharma teachers about a village in
Thailand that had to move because it lay in the path of a new highway. There was
a large clay Buddha in their temple that was transported to a new location with
great effort. But in the process, a crack appeared. Upon closer inspection, it
was discovered that the Buddha was actually made of gold. The startled villagers
eventually figured out the reason. Generations earlier, when the village feared
invasion, the people covered the priceless Buddha with clay. The invaders never
discovered the ploy, but nevertheless killed all the inhabitants. There was no
one left who knew the secret. This parallels the truth about us. Most believe
that we are simply made of clay. In fact scientists claim that the minerals
found in a human body are only worth a few dollars! Yet Buddha knew that, in
truth, our real selves are solid gold. Buried beneath our mundane exterior is
the inner teacher, the key to liberation.
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