“They would say: ‘In order to advance, I take one more step, into the void.’ They dare to climb farther, they risk entering the unknown, where there is no measure or signpost, where the I is erased, where consciousness raises itself over the world without trying to change it in order to perceive that which is beyond words. There, you have no more definitions; you have nothing. You are only what you are without asking what you are, without comparing yourself to anything, without judging yourself, without any need for honor. Do you understand?”
Sarcastically, I answered, “Yes, I understand, Ejo! My true, eternal, infinite being knows everything! My numberless pockets are full. I need nothing!”
To calm me, the monk had me kneel and gave me three blows on each shoulder blade. Then, in a gesture of false modesty, I joined my hands and bowed. He groaned.
“Well, because that’s the way it is, resolve this koan: What will you do to extinguish a lamp that is six hundred miles away?”
After anxious concentration, this response came to me: “I will reach out with an arm that’s six hundred miles long!”
I could not tell whether it was with pity or with contempt that he looked at me. “You think you understand. You are clever, but you are blinded by ambition. With that response, you imply that your mind has no limits, that it can attain the infinite — but you do not see that you have put the lamp outside yourself. You think it, but you are not it!”
I now saw my error and was ashamed. “What does the book say?”
“‘Without a word, the disciple raised one hand, twirling his thumb and fingers to imitate a flame. Then he blew on it and put out the flame.’ There is no distance. The lamp is his thought. When he extinguishes it, he awakens.”
“There is still something I don’t understand: Why should I extinguish a lamp that for me is the symbol of knowledge and tradition?”
“Symbols have no fixed meaning; they change according to the level of consciousness of whoever contemplates them and the cultural context in which they appear. The lamp we are speaking of here is not carried by a Buddha. It is burning away in a faraway room where there is no one to put it out. It is a waste of fuel. The wisdom that you call ‘tradition’ is far from your essence. It shines without illuminating anything in you. If you are the fathomless night, you need no theories to illuminate you. These so-called teachings only corrupt your darkness. In your cultivation of erudition, you stretch your arm six hundred miles, which takes you farther away from your center. The intellect that burns with a useless flame and does not know how to extinguish itself is constructed of definitions born of the fear of the unthinkable. This is precisely what the following koan refers to: ‘A prostitute saved a spirit from the world of suffering by filling a vessel of water and then removing her necklaces and bracelets and plunging them in the water.’ And you — how would you save this spirit? Answer!”
“The answer seems obvious, Ejo. I would save it by removing my own ornaments: ambitious thoughts, vain emotions, useless luxuries, self-indulgent definitions, display of my medals and diplomas. .”
“Enough! Once again, you stir up the surface, thinking you are reaching the depths. Now listen to the traditional answer: The disciple took on the anguished expression of the spirit, and joining his hands, he begged: ‘Please save me!’ The spirit that the prostitute sees is her own. Because she is all decked out to conquer her clients, she rids herself of her jewelry and throws it into the water, which reflects her own face. In separating herself from her jewels in this way, she sees that they are like the reflection. She abandons her desires and sees the uselessness of seduction, and her illusory individuality disappears. .
“When the Buddha saw the present as the world of suffering in which the ego is trapped by its desires, he proclaimed its emptiness. Abhorring sickness, old age, and death, he decided to escape the wheel of reincarnations and never be born again. Yet might it not be that this illusion we call ‘ego’ is an element essential to perfect realization? Why not consider birth a celebration? Cannot life be happiness when we accept that this ephemeral existence is a degree in eternal existence? If the unthinkable God is in everything, then suffering is nothing more than a concept and consciousness is a treasure accorded us for all eternity. You cannot suffer the loss of something that is not yourself. You are what you are, forever. As bodies grow old, the spirit appears little by little. Time is our friend, for it brings us wisdom. Old age teaches us not to be attached to matter. The banks of a river do not try to keep the water from flowing. Why fear illnesses? They are our allies. Bodily ills reveal problems that we dare not face and heal the illnesses of the spirit. Why be afraid to lose our identity? The summation of all identities is our identity. Why be afraid of abandonment? When we are with ourselves, we always have company. And why be afraid of not being loved? Freedom is to love without asking to be loved in return. As for the fear of being trapped, where is the trap when the universe is our body? Fear of the other? The other is our mirror. Fear of losing a battle? To lose a battle is not to lose ourselves. Fear of humiliation? If we conquer our pride, no one can humiliate us. Fear of the night? Night is inseparable from day. Fear of being sterile? The soul is our supreme daughter.”
Ejo Takata now stopped and gave a loud laugh. Then he began to fan himself.
“I have fallen into the trap. I’ve been vomiting words. My tongue is soiled and your ears are as well. Come into the kitchen, I have a bottle of good sake. Let us drink and give ourselves over to the only valid response for all these questions: silence.”
Ceremoniously, we heated the alcoholic rice drink, and the more we drank, the denser our silence became. Ejo seemed more Japanese than ever to me. His slanted eyes regarded me with a reptilian intensity. I do not know whether it was real or the effect of the alcohol, but suddenly, I felt that his mind was a predatory animal trying to get inside my brain. I shook my head violently. “Stop reading my mind!” I cried.
Ejo leaned over on his back, lifted his legs in the air, and emitted a fart so stupendous that the paper walls shook.
Then he took the secret book and began reading: “A long time ago, the magus Daiji traveled from India to the capital of China. He claimed to have the rare power of reading minds. The emperor Daiso commanded his old teacher, Etchu, to test the monk’s claims. When Etchu stood before the foreigner, the latter bowed and took a step to the right. Etchu said to the magus, ‘If you have the power to read minds, tell me where I am now.’
“Daiji replied, ‘You, the master of a nation, how can you go to the Western River to watch a boat race?’ ‘Tell me where I am now,’ Etchu said a second time. ‘You, the master of a nation, how can you remain on the Tenshin bridge watching monkeys perform their antics?’ A third time Etchu said: ‘And now, tell me where I am.’ After a long pause, the magus was unable to respond.
“Etchu cried: ‘You poor fox, what has become of your ability to read minds?’ Daiji gave no answer. Then Etchu returned to the emperor: ‘Your Majesty, do not let yourself be fooled by foreigners.’”
Ejo closed the book. “Now you answer! Where was the master?”
The sake fumes dissipated quickly from my brain. I felt a wave of cold move through my body. Ejo had taken me by surprise. Myriad explanations swarmed in my mind. Deliberately exaggerating my drunkenness, I rambled haltingly, discovering what I thought as I heard my own words.
“I see a vast palace; fine silk clothes; servants; concubines; priests; lavish banquets; sublime musicians; fierce warriors; and the imposing figure of the emperor, a great statesman, the most powerful of men. Yet the great representative who is capable of making and unmaking the world is behaving as a child before his master. What can a sage teach a person who has everything? Perhaps he can teach him how to die. . From the west, the mysterious region where the sun goes down, a magus arrives, wearing the dress of a holy man. He is preceded by a reputation so great that he is received by the emperor. What does this man want? Clearly, he desires to impress the emperor with his gift for reading minds, thereby fascinating him and replacing the old counselor. Thanks to the shrewdness that has brought him so much power, the emperor sees through the bold plan of the magus. His ability to read minds says nothing about his moral qualities. So he decides to have Etchu, his spiritual teacher, test him. This is the first setback for the magus: to be deprived of direct contact with his intended prey, the emperor himself. Instead, he finds himself before the wisest mind in the country.