Genuine Blindness: Case 76 of the Blue Cliff Record

Two days ago I drove up to Watertown, picked Jan up at Perkins and we swung by the opticians we’ve used for the past six, seven, eight years. After nearly three years the film on my glasses that darkens them when I’m out in the sun has begun to fray. Also, these are rimless glasses, and as I’m particularly hard on such things, no doubt not my best purchase over the years.

Sadly my last eye exam showed no significant deterioration, so I didn’t want to spring for the big bucks that come with replacing glasses. Fortunately our opticians have been faithfully fixing ’em up and replacing parts without so much as a peep. Part of why we continue to go to them even now that its rather inconvenient.

However, finally, the moment of truth had arrived. It was time for new specs. While tightening them up our optician saw a crack and told us the decision came not a moment too soon. In fact I need to be very careful until I get the new glasses…

So, in a couple of weeks I’ll be sporting new glasses. I’ll show off the new photo promptly…

And all this sparked some thoughts.

First.

Seeing is such a good thing.

Of my senses, it is right there at the top of my favorite list.

And living with the research librarian at Perkins School for the Blind, I’m particularly sensitive to what it means to have vision impaired or even lost…

It also sensitizes me to the use of the word blind as a metaphor. “None so blind as those who will not see” and “the blind leading the blind” immediately come to mind as negative images. As does the more complex “love is blind.”

Then there’s Zen.

As most know Indian Mahayana Buddhism came to China, met Taoism, they shacked up and their love child was Zen.

Among the things we inherit from that Taoist side of the family is an embracing of what the dominant society generally rejects as our preferred metaphors for the best. Water, women, that sort of thing.

And blindness.

In the Blue Cliff Record, case 76, we get a real hit of what that looks like (as it were)…

Tanxia asked a monk, “So, where are you from?” The monk replies, “From the foot of the mountain.” Tanxia then asked “Have you eaten your rice?” The monk replies, “Yes.” Tanxia then leans in and asks, “What sort of person brings you rice to eat? Has she open eyes?” The monk is silent.

Later, Chanqing observed to Baofu, “Surely it is one’s responsibility to repay the Buddhas and Ancestors by giving people nourishment. How is it that the one who served had no eyes?” Baofu said, “The server and the receiver are both blind.” Changqing asked, “Is the one who makes the most generous effort blind or not?” Baofu responded, “Are you calling me blind?”

Now the first part, the dialog between the master Tanxia and the monk is pretty straight ahead Zenspeak. The teacher throws out bait, the student misses it. Not daunted the teacher gives another try, and introduces the question of eyes. Silence is a great answer, that is when it isn’t cluelessness. I’ll leave it to you to decide which is the monk’s situation.

Then we come to the truly juicy conversation between Changqing and Baofu. Changqing Huileng and Baofu Congzhan were both disciples of the great late Ninth century master Xuefeng Yicun. Their conversations prove helpful to all of us.

Particularly considering the matter of blindness.

Now, in our times it is important to recall, always, the background of physical blindness. But, it is also important to engage this metaphor, one of the primary metaphors of human thinking, not far after standing, sitting, walking, eating, loving, and possibly taking precedence over social images such as mother and father…

My great grandparent in the Zen dharma Koun Yamada in commenting on this case observed there are five kinds of blindness (six if you count physical).

First the mediocre blindness of scholars who miss the forest for the trees, or perhaps its the trees for the forest. Whatever, caught in minutia, they miss the living, beating heart of the matter.

Second the pernicious blindness of those who project ego onto the universe. He slyly added including those priests who teach heaven and hell.

Third what he called hitherto blindness. Here we’re at the gate. People who recognize the Dharma, but have no real taste of it. They see the water (again, as it were. That’s the deal with primary metaphors. Very hard to get away from…) but have not tasted for themselves, knowing whether it is cool or warm.

Fourth what Yamada Roshi liked to call actual blindness. Here in the reversal that Zen is so fond of and which it inherited from its Taoist parent the world is tipped over. This blindness is a good thing. It is the losing of all ideas about what is and entering the great void, empty, beyond categories.

And, finally, genuine blindness. Here even awakening is forgotten. No self. No other.

Enlightenment is lost. (Enlightenment. So much to unpack in that metaphor, as well…)

Here we’ve tasted the water (Another metaphor) and know for ourselves what its temperature is.

May we all find this blindness…

And grace allowing, we will…