Why do I need a teacher anyway?

Post Date:October 11, 2009

Why Do I Need a Teacher Anyway?

    Inevitably, in either a phone conversation or in an email, a prospective T’ai Chi student or someone interested in learning Ch’an (Zen) meditation will say to me:  “I have read a number of books on T’ai Chi/Buddhism”; or “I have tried to learn T’ai Chi from DVDs.”    The pat response, which those books/DVDs on meditation/T’ai Chi often emphasize, is that a person can’t learn T’ai Chi or meditation from books or from DVDs and that a person should look for a qualified teacher.  The bottom line is that learning T’ai Chi and meditation are both experiential processes that require hands-on work and guidance—and not second hand advice from books and virtual teachers on our TV or Computer screens.
    “Now wait a minute,” you might say.  “There are DVDs for sale on this very Website.  If DVDs are not good for learning T’ai Chi, why do you sell them?   And aren’t these writings ‘teachings’ too?”   Well, yes they are.   Let me implicate myself even more by confessing that I read lots and lots of books on T’ai Chi, Taoism, Buddhism, Chi Kung, and Traditional Chinese Medicine, and I watch lots and lots of DVDs.  Hypocrit!  But as the great American poet T. S. Eliot writes,  lifting lines from Charles Baudelaire, “You!  Hypocrite Lecteur—mon semblance,--mon frère.”  (Translated loosely:  Hypocrit reader.  My double, my brother.)
    I read those books and watch those DVDs in order to expand my understanding, but they are in no way an adequate substitute for a teacher or for a regular practice.  Matter of fact, many of the books that I study have been written by my teachers or with people with whom I have studied in some capacity:  Dr. Yang, Mwing-Jing or Helen Wu, for example, in T’ai Chi, or sutras and studies written by people in my direct Ch’an lineage.  I study those books in order to amplify and deepen what they have taught me directly.    
    The issue, in my mind, comes back to our very American cultural identity of rugged individualism and self-reliance.  The individual stands large within this world-view and has spawned the American Dream, where an individual (any individual regardless of background and socio-material opportunities—[do you see the ideal cracking here under the weight of reality here?]) can accomplish anything he or she desires.  This ideal perpetuates the myth of the so-called “Self-made Man” and the possibility of a rags-to-riches storyline. 
    So what does this American Dream Myth have to do with Buddhism or T’ai Chi?  The American ideal of the rugged individual does nothing more than stroke our egos, which are so well-formulated in this culture already that we do not realize that we are so inundated with this ideal that we think that we have the capacity to fix ourselves without the meddling of others—which manifests in our cultural obsession with the Self-help section of our local bookstores.  We think that we do not need teachers since we have all of the tools (books, resources, and our own abilities) that we might possibly need because we are rugged individuals.  But as one of my teachers, Dr. Yang, explains in his Qigong Meditation: Small Circulation,

"When you find a good qualified teacher or source of learning, treat it preciously, so you don’t miss the opportunity of learning.  This chance may not come again.  Traditionally, it was very difficult to find a qualified teacher.  Even if you found one, you would not necessarily be accepted.
    Today, it is easier to collect information since there are so many books, videotapes, and DVDs available.  But the guidance of an experienced teacher is generally crucial to reach the final goal.  Subtle advice can save you a great deal of time and effort.  When you are lost in a big city, even though you have read the map, guidance from a passerby could save a lot of effort."

When we want to learn how to drive, reading the manual is not going to prepare us enough to learn how to actually drive a car out of the driveway and pass our drivers test.  Similarly, if we decide to learn carpentry, we don’t just read books on it; we do it.  If we want to become a really good carpenter, we study under a professional (the original notion of the process of “apprenticeship” in order to become a “master”),  who teaches us the tricks and secrets to perfecting our art. 
    When it comes to perfecting ourselves—and let’s face it, waking up in meditation is about recognizing our inherent Buddhahood, and learning T’ai Chi is turning inward in order to reach the harmony of the Tao—does it not make sense that we should turn to others who are farther along the path for their help—their guidance—since they have already navigated the trials and tribulations of the practices?   Those teachers are more than capable of helping others to negotiate those same problems and obstacles when they arise since they have dealt with them already.
      This is not to say that those teachers have completed learning about their art, and if someone tells you that he or she has entirely mastered T’ai Chi or meditation, then run away as quickly as possible since both T’ai Chi and meditation are an ongoing process of discovery and growth and not the end of a path.  As Ven. Shih Ying-Fa , my Ch’an teacher, replies when asked if he is enlightened:  “I am  not enlightened, but I am waking up nicely.”   Teachers truly dedicated to their art never stop deepening their practice; subsequently, someone truly dedicated to an art, never stops being a student in the most humble and yet open way.
     So who doesn’t need a teacher? 

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