74 Book

In 1975 when John, Billy, and I had first begun practicing what I then thought was Zen Buddhism it had seemed to me that Billy was a natural Zen master. Ten years later when he decided to seek out a teacher I told him this. Billy said that he himself had felt the same way and that at first he leaned in that direction. But after further consideration he had decided that given his three academic degrees in English the Tibetan respect for formal learning, for scholarship, and for books was for him a better fit than Zen.

I understood.

Though there is a scholastic tradition also in Zen, it is secondary to the mystic transmission from teacher to student in the here and now. This attitude is expressed in one of the anecdotes in Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, an anthology of stories, koans, and legends in Zen. As a gesture of succession, Munan, a master who has supposedly never been angry, presents to his only disciple Shoju, as a symbol of the teaching, a book that has been passed down from master to new master for seven generations.

Shoju demurs.

Munan insists.

Shoju throws the book into the fire.

Munan yells.

"What are you doing!"

Shoju replies.

"What are you saying!"

I love this story.

But it was not the respect for books, Billy told me, that had been the greatest factor in his decision.

"Of all the teachers," Billy said, "it was the Tibetans who seemed the most kind."

This simple declaration touched me.

It seemed that Mipham Rinpoche, the son of Trungpa Rinpoche, was now Billy's teacher and the head of Shambhala. Had Billy's present teacher been enlightened? Had his teacher said so? Had he realized shunyata? Did Billy think so? I assumed Billy did and, if so, perhaps I'd sign on, too, if that were possible and Mipham Rinpoche would have me.

I asked Billy point blank.

"In your opinion is Mipham Rinpoche enlightened?"

"I can only answer that I'm not sure," Billy replied. "I assume we have all had a glimpse of shunyata and I am confident that Mipham Rinpoche is ahead of me. I believe that he is knowledgeable, humble, and kind and that he has the best interests of his students at heart. I trust him to teach authentic dharma. I have seen him give of himself totally."

Had this answered my question?

"I think your question is a crucial one," Billy added, "but I don't think we can ever really know whether a teacher is enlightened. We are always looking into a mirror."

Hmm.

"For me devotion to the guru can do two things," Billy explained. "It can allow us to give up our usual reference points—of course it's still up to us to do that—and on emptiness it can put a kind human face which might give us the courage to take the leap beyond the usual conceptual mind mirror and into the very last disappointment."

Huh?

"Trungpa said that enlightenment is like having your supper taken away before you've eaten," Billy added.