Readers of Antiquity

"Literature, especially poetry, has the same double, paradoxical nature as religion, and it is the main theme of 'Zen in English Literature,' that where there is religion there is poetry, where there is poetry there is religion, not two things in close association, but one thing with two names. The false religion and the false poetical life are equally one: a wallowing in God, a vague and woolly pantheism, nightingales and roses. If anything is so-called poetry, if anything in Buddhism or Christianity will not stand the test of Reality, the test of Zen…'What will not hold perfection, let it burst!"

This is the review of Zen in English Literature and Oriental Classics by R.H. Blyth. Hokuseido Press published it in 1942.

Was Zen thought in the writings of Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Dickens, Stevenson, and Twain? R.H. Blyth says that it is and should not be of any great surprise, because Zen manifests itself in all things. Like the theory of the 'Tao,' Zen is everything or it's nothing. He states that in all great works of literature, Zen comes forth quite unconsciously, through the writers.

'Goethe called architecture frozen music, so art is frozen Zen.' But what is Zen? Allen Watts claimed that, 'No mouth is big enough to describe it!' Zen, then, defies explanation. It is possible that it is too abstract for our normal state of consciousness. That is reason enough for its claim or non-claim of truthfulness. If it can't be defined, it must be understood with intuition. And 'intuition' is a function of the human psyche that may prove more trustworthy then reason.

True Zen masters do not seek disciples; they know truth is found within. But people beg for answers, so they get confusion and frustration. They meet with a terrible, mental Judo. 'Two hands together make a clap, what is the sound of one hand?' This type of paradoxical questioning leads the student in circles of the mind. Finally, losing hope of ever being enlightened, they give up. Then suddenly, the answer comes. The hand, the clap, the master, and the student are all one. We are all one, one indescribable field of energy. Everything is the 'Buddha Nature.' Dogs, clouds, whores, and everything else cannot be separated from the 'Blinding Light of Existence.'

In Zen, one must never leave the eternal now. All thoughts of past mistakes are to be slain. All thoughts arising of future problems should be strangled. The Zen idea is thus, 'When you are hungry, eat rice; when you are weary, sleep. Awaken the mind without fixing it anywhere. For long years a bird in a cage; now, flying along with the clouds of heaven.' We must agree with Nikko, in his eternal nowness, 'Ah, how glorious the young leaves, the green leaves, glittering in the sunshine!'

Ah yes, but where is this Zen-type thing in English literature? We should start with the author's idea of Zen, first. He states this, 'I remember when I was young, like many other boys, while traveling by train I used to turn one of the knobs in the compartment when the train started or stopped, pretending it was I who was the cause of it all. The true Christian or Buddhist life is just this. When it rains, it is God's will, and God's will is my will, God's rain is my rain. This is my rain that rains, it is my own specially ordered rain that wets me to the skin and chills me to the marrow, gives me consumption and kills me. It is my sun that shines, it is my time that silvers my hair by my request, loosens my teeth at my command. This is the faith, the love, that moves the sun and all the other stars.'

It is with this knowledge the author was able to understand Don Quixote by Cervantes. 'The life of Don Quixote was a life of Zen; indifferent to the opinions of his fellows, without a single thought of self, of self-aggrandizement or self-expression, he 'lived' twenty four hours every day, following his instincts (his ideals) as wholeheartedly, as truly, as naturally, as the blooming of flowers in spring, as the falling of leaves in autumn.'

"This is the point," replied Don Quixote, "this is the essence of my manner of life; for a knight errant to run mad for some actual reason or other—there would be nothing praiseworthy or meritorious in that! The perfection of it consists in running mad without the least constraint or necessity."

So, if I have run mad in not describing the Zen in every English literary classic and not having told you whether I liked this book or not, mark it down as Zen on my part. To write a review, smell a flower, or have a bowel movement are all quite equal in the 'Blinding Light of Existence.'