Fingers Pointing at the Moon and Other Swift Kicks in the Pants
Post Date:November 01, 2009
The practice of Ch’an Buddhism (Zen in Japanese) is often described as a “Finger pointing at the Moon.” What, you might ask, does that mean? After all, it seems like another opaque statement that finds itself caricatured in cartoons: “If you can snatch this pebble from my hand, then you are ready.” And then: “Now the student has become the master, and the master is the student.” The phrase a finger pointing at the moon does leave itself open to such parody, but it is an important element of Ch’an practice and T’ai Chi. In relation to the history of this blog, it is a rejoinder to an earlier conversation about the importance of books and DVDs in ones practice.
In response to an earlier post (“Who Needs a Teacher Anyway?”), Secundra in Cleveland had written in response to my statement that it is nearly impossible to learn meditation and/or T’ai Chi from books or DVDs. Her comment reads:
“Can I play "devil's advocate" for a minute? One of the items I pick up in reading editorials from Buddhist magazines is that if people live too far away to have access to a teacher, then DVD's and the internet serve as a way to keep the practice up without abandoning it all together.”
People with whom I have studied are not close by for me here in Pittsburgh either. Dr. Yang lives at his mountain retreat in California; Master Helen Wu is in Toronto; Professor Li is in Beijing; and Ven. Shih Ying-Fa is in Cleveland. (Lucky Secundra, though!) Granted I speak to Ying-Fa regularly via phone, but that does not and can not be a substitute for meeting face to face.
So what does a person do? I must admit, I read and study. And I absolutely relish that time. What I am doing, though, when I read is not searching for ways to stimulate and entertain myself. Rather, those texts are approached as maps—a look how to get from here to here. And I find inspiration. After all, I know that people can give up on practice even with a teacher close by. So a teacher close by isn’t the only thing that keeps a practice going.
When I read a book on Ch’an or T’ai Chi, I have a hard time finishing a single chapter because I want to get up and try it—whether it be to go to my meditation cushion or to the back deck to play T’ai Chi and apply what I just learned. The other night my daughter and I rewatched The T’ai Chi Master, formerly titled Twin Warriors, a movie starring Jet Li with great T’ai Chi scenes. I barely made it through the film without breaking into Grasp Bird’s Tail and Brush the Knee.
One should not forget, though, that texts are inspiration. To return to the image of a finger pointing at the moon, so many people mistake the finger for the moon. The finger is the guide—the prompt—to look for oneself. To stare at the finger is to miss the moon. To read a book on T’ai Chi and not practice is to mistake the words and pictures for playing the form for oneself.
So when we read, we read for inspiration—a guide or, if we need, a kick in the pants, to our practice. After all, neither a book nor a teacher will enlighten you. Only you can do that through your own diligent and dedicated effort. And don’t you think, by the way, that now is a good time to meditate or play T’ai Chi?
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As the T'ai Chi Classics state, ones T'ai Chi should "Flow like a river and be still as a mountain."
