Þe moste goodly knowyng of God is þat, þe whiche is knowyn bi vnknowyng

            In the Mumonkan, or The Gateless Gate, a collection of koans published in 1228 (a good century and a half before the Cloud) by the Chinese Zen master Wumen, we see the following as Case 34:  “Mind is not the Buddha, knowing is not the Way”. 

            Is this not, in effect, what the Cloud-author has in mind in quoting the Pseudo-Dionysis:  “Þe moste goodly knowyng of God is þat, þe whiche is knowyn bi vnknowyng”?

            At the beginning of Book III of his Meditations, Marcus Aurelius writes:

            We ought to observe also that even the things which follow after the things which are produced according to nature contain something pleasing and attractive.  For instance, when bread is baked some parts are split at the surface, and these parts which thus open, and have a certain fashion contrary to the purpose of the baker’s art, are beautiful in a manner, and in a peculiar way excite a desire for eating.  And again, figs, when they are quite ripe, gape open; and in the ripe olives the very circumstance of their being near to rottenness adds a peculiar beauty to the fruit.

            Aurelius almost certainly did not intend this for the use I would like it to serve, namely, to point out that it is the wrinkles in our traditions that allow them to serve their purpose best.  By this I mean that there is no point trying to reduce all religious or spiritual paths (whatever “spiritual” means, if anything) to a single common essence and to follow that, leaving the differences aside.  It is tempting to do so; but the wrinkles may prove, contrary to our desires, to be the real essences.

            It also sometimes happens that people try to attach themselves to a path that is attractive principally in its strangeness.  I have my suspicions about whether, for instance, North Americans like me have any business messing around with stuff like Zen.  (Yes, there are exceptions, but they are very few.)  Zen has many attractive features, just as Christianity has some unseemly ones.  But it may be that we are meant to come to terms with the unseemly, and may never really come to those if we were to jump ship to Zen, and that the attractions of Zen suit the passions more than the spirit.  Attraction may be a trap for us.

            A chapter of the book Awareness Bound and Unbound: Buddhist Essays by David Loy draws some tentative parallels between Zen and the practice of The Cloud that are worth pondering.  This is mainly helpful in reminding us that the attractions to jumping ship may be here at home with us, largely unnoticed, in our own traditions. 

            Loy quotes, for instance, the following passage from the “Discourses of Master Po Shan” in Chang’s The Practice of Zen as suggestive of a similarity (superficial, it turns out) between Zen and the concepts of unknowing/forgetting in The Cloud:

            When working on Zen, one does not see the sky when he lifts his head, nor the earth when he lowers it.  To him a mountain is not a mountain, and water is not water.  While walking or sitting he is not aware of doing so.  Though among a hundred thousand people, he sees no one.  Without and within his body and mind nothing exists but the burden of his doubt-sensation.  This feeling can be described as “turning the whole world into a muddy vortex”.

            Loy is quick to add, however, that we can’t make too much of this — it’s hard to say, finally, whether the muddy vortex is a cloud of unknowing, a cloud of forgetting, or both, Zen not really drawing such a fine distinction.

            In any case, those drawn to Zen can ponder this for a moment.  Could we not find some of the attractions of no-mind in a practice situated closer to home?

            Loy also points to a tantalizing similarity between the practice of the prayer-word in the Cloud and koan study.  The Cloud-author instructs:

Take þee bot a litil worde of o silable … & soche a worde is þis worde GOD or þis worde LOUE….

            With this might well be paired the approach commended to the famous first koan of the Mumonkan:

A monk asked Jõshû, “Has a dog the Buddha Nature?”  Jõshû answered, “Mu.”

            Is mu a prayer-word?  This is, of course, going way too far, and Loy (greatly to his credit) says so.  But for the sake of a thought experiment, he also presents the following commentary on the koan:

            You must melt down your delusions with the red-hot iron ball of Mu stuck in your throat.  The opinions you hold and your worldly knowledge are your delusions.  Included also are philosophical and moral concepts, no matter how lofty, as well as religious beliefs and dogmas, not to mention innocent, commonplace thoughts.  In short, all conceivable ideas are embraced within the term “delusions” and as such are a hindrance to the realization of your Essential-nature.  So dissolve them with the fireball of Mu!

            It is also interesting to read the commentary that Mumon offered on this koan:

            In order to master Zen, you must pass the barrier of the patriarchs.  To attain this subtle realization, you must completely cut off the way of thinking.  If you do not pass the barrier, and do not cut off the way of thinking, then you will be like a ghost clinging to the bushes and weeds.  Now, I want to ask you, what is the barrier of the patriarchs?  Why, it is this single word “Mu.”  That is the front gate to Zen.

            Arouse your entire body with its three hundred and sixty bones and joints and its eighty-four thousand pores of the skin; summon up a spirit of great doubt and concentrate on this word “Mu.”  Carry it continuously day and night.  Do not form a nihilistic conception of vacancy, or a relative conception of “has” or “has not.”  It will be just as if you swallow a red-hot iron ball, which you cannot spit out even if you try.

            All the illusory ideas and delusive thoughts accumulated up to the present will be exterminated, and when the time comes, internal and external will be spontaneously united.  You will know this, but for yourself only, like a dumb man who has had a dream.

            It will be as if you snatch away the great sword of the valiant general Kan’u and hold it in your hand.  When you meet the Buddha, you kill him; when you meet the patriarchs, you kill them.

            Now, I want to ask you again, “How will you carry it out?”

            Employ every ounce of your energy to work on this “Mu.”  If you hold on without interruption, behold: a single spark, and the holy candle is lit!

            Is this the method of the Cloud?  Certainly not.  Is it nevertheless an illuminating point of comparison?  Absolutely.  It is not going too far to suggest that Mumon is calling on the practitioner to suspend the operation of the “knowing power” in a manner the Cloud-author would have appreciated.

            We will finish with the koan with which we began, in the complete version, with commentary, from The Gateless Gate:

            Nansen said, “Mind is not the Buddha, reason is not the Way.”

            Mumon’s Comment:  Nansen, growing old, had no shame.  Just opening his stinking mouth, he let slip the family secrets.  Yet there are very few who are grateful for his kindness.

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