Inner Traditions International One Park Street Rochester, Vermont 05767 www.lnnerTraditions.com Revised edition published in 1990 First published in French under the title La Doctrine Suprême First quality paperback edition published in 1984 by Inner Traditions International under the title The Supreme Doctrine Published by arrangement with Pantheon Books Copyright © 1955 by Pantheon Books All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Benoit, Hubert. [Doctrine suprême. English] Zen and the psychology of transformation : the supreme doctrine / Hubert Benoit ; foreword by Aldous Huxley. Translation of: La doctrine suprême. Reprint. Originally published: New York : Pantheon Books, 1955. ISBN 0-89281-272-9 1. Zen Buddhism—Psychology. I. Title. [BQ9268.6B4613 1990] 294.3'375—dc20 90-30217 CIP CONTENTS page FOREWORD BY ALDOUS HUXLEY 6 AUTHOR’S PREFACE 9 I. ON THE GENERAL SENSE OF ZEN THOUGHT 14 II. ‘GOOD’ AND ‘EVIL’ 19 III. THE IDOLATRY OF ‘SALVATION’ 28 IV. THE EXISTENTIALISM OF ZEN 31 V. THE MECHANISM OF ANXIETY 41 VI. THE FIVE MODES OF THOUGHT OF THE NATURAL MAN— PSYCHOLOGICAL CONDITIONS OF SATORI 56 VII. LIBERTY AS ‘TOTAL DETERMINISM’ 71 VIII. THE EGOTISTICAL STATES 76 IX. THE ZEN UNCONSCIOUS 80 X. METAPHYSICAL DISTRESS 86 XI. SEEING INTO ONE’S OWN NATURE—THE SPECTATOR OF THE SPECTACLE 91 XII. HOW TO CONCEIVE THE INNER TASK ACCORDING TO ZEN 103 XIII. OBEDIENCE TO THE NATURE OF THINGS 110 XIV. EMOTION AND THE EMOTIVE STATE 121 XV. SENSATION AND SENTIMENT 138 XVI. ON AFFECTIVITY 148 XVII. THE HORSEMAN AND THE HORSE 155 XVIII. THE PRIMORDIAL ERROR OR ‘ORIGINAL SIN’ 163 4 CONTENTS page XIX. THE IMMEDIATE PRESENCE OF SATORI 171 XX. PASSIVITY OF THE MIND AND DISINTEGRATION OF OUR ENERGY 177 XXI. ON THE IDEA OF ‘DISCIPLINE’ 192 XXII. THE COMPENSATIONS 206 XXIII. THE INNER ALCHEMY 220 XXIV. ON HUMILITY 231 EPILOGUE 237 5 FOREWORD P in the Orient is never pure speculation, but always some HILOSOPHY form of transcendental pragmatism. Its truths, like those of modern physics, are to be tested operationally. Consider, for example, the basic doctrine of Vedânta, of Mahayana Buddhism, of Taoism, of Zen. 'Tat tvam asi—thou art That.' 'Tao is the root to which we may return, and so become again That which, in fact, we have always been.' 'Samsara and Nirvana, Mind and individual minds, sentient beings and the Buddha, are one.' Nothing could be more enormously metaphysical than such affirmations; but, at the same time, nothing could be less theoretical, idealistic, Pickwickian. They are known to be true because, in a super-Jamesian way, they work, because there is something that can be done with them. The doing of this something modifies the doer's relations with reality as a whole. But knowledge is in the knower according to the mode of the knower. When transcendental pragmatists apply the operational test to their metaphysical hypotheses, the mode of their existence changes, and they know everything, including the proposition, 'thou art That', in an entirely new and illuminating way. The author of this book is a psychiatrist, and his thoughts about the Philosophia Perennis in general and about Zen in particular are those of a man professionally concerned with the treatment of troubled minds. The difference between Eastern philosophy, in its therapeutic aspects, and most of the systems of psychotherapy current in the modern West may be summarised in a few sentences. The aim of Western psychiatry is to help the troubled individual to adjust himself to the society of less troubled individuals—individuals who are observed to be well adjusted to one another and the local institutions, but about whose adjustment to the fundamental Order of Things no enquiry is made. Counselling, analysis, and other methods of therapy are used to bring these troubled and maladjusted persons back to a normality, which is defined, for lack of any better criterion, in statistical terms. To be normal is to be a member of the majority party—or in totalitarian societies, such as Calvinist Geneva, Nazi Germany, Communist Russia, of the party which happens to be in power. For the exponents of the transcendental pragmatisms of the Orient, 6 FOREWORD statistical normality is of little or no interest. History and anthropology make it abundantly clear that societies composed of individuals who think, feel, believe and act according to the most preposterous conventions can survive for long periods of time. Statistical normality is perfectly compatible with a high degree of folly and wickedness. But there is another kind of normality—a normality of perfect functioning, a normality of actualised potentialities, a normality of nature in fullest flower. This normality has nothing to do with the observed behaviour of the greatest number—for the greatest number live, and have always lived, with their potentialities unrealised, their nature denied its full development. In so far as he is a psychotherapist, the Oriental philosopher tries to help statistically normal individuals to become normal in the other, more fundamental sense of the word. He begins by pointing out to those who think themselves sane that, in fact, they are mad, but that they do not have to remain so if they don't want to. Even a man who is perfectly adjusted to a deranged society can prepare himself, if he so desires, to become adjusted to the Nature of Things, as it manifests itself in the universe at large and in his own mind-body. This preparation must be carried out on two levels simultaneously. On the psycho-physical level, there must be a letting-go of the ego's frantic clutch on the mind-body, a breaking of its bad habits of interfering with the otherwise infallible workings of the entelechy, of obstructing the flow of life and grace and inspiration. At the same time, on the intellectual level, there must be a constant self-reminder that our all too human likes and dislikes are not absolutes, that yin and yang, negative and positive, are reconciled in the Tao, that 'One is the denial of all denials', that the eye with which we see God (if and when we see him) is the same as the eye with which God sees us, and that it is the eye to which, in Matthew Arnold's words: Each moment in its race, Crowd as we will its neutral space, Is but a quiet watershed, Whence, equally, the seas of life and death are fed. This process of intellectual and psycho-physical adjustment to the Nature of Things is necessary; but it cannot, of itself, result in the normalisation (in the non-statistical sense) of the deranged individual. It will, however, prepare the 7 FOREWORD way for that revolutionary event. That, when it comes, is the work not of the personal self, but of that great Not-Self, of which our personality is a partial and distorted manifestation. 'God and God's will,' says Eckhart, 'are one; I and my will are two.' However, I can always use my will to will myself out of my own light, to prevent my ego from interfering with God's will and eclipsing the Godhead manifested by that will. In theological language, we are helpless without grace, but grace cannot help us unless we choose to co- operate with it. In the pages which follow, Dr. Benoit has discussed the 'supreme doctrine' of Zen Buddhism in the light of Western psychological theory and Western psychiatric practice—and in the process he has offered a searching criticism of Western psychology and Western psychotherapy as they appear in the light of Zen. This is a book that should be read by everyone who aspires to know who he is and what he can do to acquire such self- knowledge. ALDOUS HUXLEY 8 AUTHOR’S PREFACE T book contains a certain number of basic ideas that seek to improve HIS our understanding of the state of man. I assume, therefore, that anyone will admit that he has still something to learn on this subject. This is not a jest. Man needs, in order to live his daily life, to be inwardly as if he had settled or eliminated the great questions that concern his state. Most men never reflect on their state because they are convinced explicitly or implicitly, that they understand it. Ask, for example, different men why they desire to exist, what is the reason for what one calls the 'instinct of self-preservation'. One will tell you: 'It is so because it is so; why look for a problem where none exists?' This man depends on the belief that there is no such question. Another will say to you: 'I desire to exist because God wishes it so; He wishes that I desire to exist so that I may, in the course of my life, save my soul and perform all the good deeds that He expects of His creature.' This man depends on an explicit belief; if you press him further, if you ask him why God wishes him to save his soul, etc., he will end by telling you that human reason cannot and is not called upon to understand the real basis of such things. In saying which he approaches the agnostic who will tell you that the wise man ought to resign himself always to remaining ignorant of ultimate reality, and that, after all, life is not so disagreeable despite this ignorance. Every man, whether he admits it or not, lives by a personal system of metaphysics that he believes to be true; this practical system of metaphysics implies positive beliefs, which the man in question calls his principles, his scale of values, and a negative belief, belief in the impossibility for man to know the ultimate reality of anything. Man in general has faith in his system of metaphysics, explicit or implicit; that is to say, he is sure that he has nothing to learn in this domain. It is where he is most ignorant that he has the greatest assurance, because it is therein that he has the greatest need of assurance. Since I write on the problems that concern the state of man I should expect some difficulty in encountering a man who will read my words with an open mind. If I were writing on pre-Columbian civilisation or on some technical subject my reader would assuredly admit my right to instruct him. 9 PREFACE But it is concerning the most intimate part of himself that I write, and it is highly probable that he will rebel and that he will close his mind, saying of me, 'All the same I hope you are not going to teach me my own business.' But I am not able to give anything in the domain of which I speak if it is not admitted that there is still something to learn therein. The reader to whom I address myself in writing this book must admit that his understanding of the state of man is capable of improvement; he should be good enough to assume also—while waiting for proof—that my understanding therein is greater than his and that, therefore, I am capable of teaching him; finally, and this is certainly the most difficult part, let him not adopt the attitude of resignation according to which the ultimate reality of things must always escape him, and let him accept, as a hypothesis, the possibility of that which Zen calls Satori, that is to say the possibility of a modification of the internal functioning of Man which will secure him at last the enjoyment of his absolute essence. If then, these three ideas are admitted: the possibility of improving the understanding of the state of man, the possibility that I may be able to help to this end, the possibility for man to arrive at a radical alteration of his natural state; then perhaps the time spent reading this book will not be wasted. 'But,' it may be argued, 'perhaps the book will enable one to accept these ideas that are not now admitted?' This, however, is not possible; a man can influence another man in the emotional domain, he can lead him to various sentiments and to various ideas that result from such sentiments, but he cannot influence him in the domain of pure intellect, the only domain in which today we enjoy freedom. I can lay bare pure intellectual points of view that were latent; they were there, asleep, and I shall have awakened them; but nothing of pure intellectuality can be 'introduced' within the reader; if, for example, the reading of my book seems to bring to birth a definite acceptance of the idea that 'Satori' is possible, it will be in the degree in which such acceptance already existed, more or less dormant, within the reader. In order that the reading of my book may have a chance of being helpful it is certainly not necessary to admit with force and clarity the three ideas that I have mentioned—although it is necessary to admit them a little at least. But above all it is necessary to avoid a hostile attitude a priori; if the attitude were hostile I could not convince, and anyhow I would not even make the attempt; metaphysical ideas do not belong to the domain of that which can be demonstrated; each one of us accepts them only to the degree in which 10