Zen and Matters of Love

 Doksan in Zen Buddhism is an integral part of  training, encouraging  an abstract dialogue about the various aspects of life between the disciple and the teacher.  Sometimes, the discussions might be directly related to a lesson, while at others they might revolve around issues troubling the disciple. Such conversations are meant to bring clarity vis-a-vis a particular topic or serve as a guiding light for the seeker. Sometimes, the aim of Doksan is to help the individual to objectively see the inconsequentiality of prolonging the past, and help him/her to move from the is-ness of what has already happened, to the is-ness of now. 

"How do you mend a broken heart?" I asked the Zen master during one of the early morning doksan sessions.

The master's face was the kindest face I had ever seen, and his voice the gentlest voice I had ever heard, as he said quietly, "Just accept...accept that your heart is broken...Yes". 

But, isn't it  because I had already accepted that my heart was broken and needed mending, had I sought him out? 

A bit lost by his answer, I felt my heart grow heavy, with tears beginning to brim my eyes. I bowed gratefully and took his leave. 

"Had the master ever fallen in love?" I would have liked to ask.  "Had he felt the turbulent ocean heaving inside him, for reasons inexplicable?" I had later wondered. Why had the tears welled my eyes, was something I didn't understand...Maybe it was the gentleness in his voice, or the innocence of his simple answer. Or, maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation wherein I was expecting solutions from someone who might not  really understand the matters of a human heart, having himself chosen a different path.

It is said that while Zen has elaborated on ways to deal with most human emotions, love is something which is not really taken into account. For, the relationship between a man and a woman, along with the aim to procreate and ensure the continuity of the clan, was in most ancient civilizations, perceived as serving a practical purpose in the society. And Love, per se, was seldom  part of the equation. And therefore, it is hardly surprising that there is nothing specific ever written by Zen exponents on the practical matters of the heart. In fact, Zen monks practised celibacy until the Meiji government of the nineteenth century Japan issued an edict, declaring that the monks could eat meat, get married and enjoy a family life. The law however took  effect only in Japan, as the monks in China continued to remain celibate, and do so, to date. 

Ryokan, a famous 19th century hermit poet, was thrown into limelight, precisely because at the  age of 69, he fell in love with Teishin, a 29-year-old beautiful learned nun, and vice versa. Their relationship resulted in seams of poetry, written to each other over the next six years, until Ryokan's death. 

It is said that had it not been for Teishin, Ryokan and his life as a poet would have remained unknown to the world. For, it was she who set about creating an anthology of his work.

Following is an example of the poetry which blossomed out of their platonic association.

After their first meeting, Teishin wrote to Ryokan:

"Was it really you I saw

Or this joy

I still feel

Only a dream?"

And Ryokan wrote to Teishin:

 "here with you i could remain
 for countless days and years
 silent as the bright moon
 we watched together"

I took out my journal and wrote:

My splintered heart

Reminds me

Of the broken moon:

A fragment entangled amongst 

the branches of the plum tree

Another floating

In my backyard pond. 

Broken, yet whole in its own way... and beautiful in its brokenness too. 

Breathe in, breathe out...watch the breath...watch the abdomen rise and fall...like the moon, and like the ripples it caused when it fell into the pond.

Accept.