Yesterday while fishing around the Web for news and inspiration, I ran into a group discussion about the corruption of western Zen by Zen teachers, and how people who are serious about realizing enlightenment must avoid teachers. One poster, after a few paragraphs of generalizations about how zennies who actually work with a teacher are phonies and saps, declared, "My practice is my own!"
If you're a regular here, you probably already know that I disagree with this view, which is often repeated on the web.
First, one more time -- I don't know exactly how many recognized Zen lineage holders are in North America now, but it's at least a couple of hundred and probably more. And the genuine stinkeroos I know of in this group I can count on one hand. Granted, there are probably a few I don't know about. But even assuming I would need both hands to count them all, that's a small percentage of the whole. (See also "Hasty Generalization Fallacy.")
Now for the larger issue. What's wrong with saying "My practice is my own"? Isn't Zen supposed to be about "self power"? Didn't the Buddha say, in the Dhammapada, "By oneself is evil done; by oneself is one defiled. By oneself is evil left undone; by oneself is one made pure. Purity and impurity depend on oneself; no one can purify another"?
Yes, but of what is one purified? Greed, anger, and ignorance; selfishness, jealousy, indifference to others, self-clinging; the mind that discriminates between this and that. And those who are attached to "my" practice are clinging to a concept of "me" to which one may attach "practice."
The antidote to this kind of ego-enhancement "me, myself and I" practice is found in the Four Immeasurables -- metta, or loving kindness; karuna, compassion; mudita, sympathetic joy; and upekkha, equanimity. The first three of these are, clearly, practiced to turn your concern away from just yourself and toward all beings. And equanimity refers to a mind in balance, free of discrimination and rooted in insight.
I don't want to be too hard on the fellow with the "me, myself and I" practice, because we all start somewhere in that neighborhood. Many of us come into practice wounded, frightened, and lost, looking for something to fix us. Others are kind of spiritual adventure-seekers, looking for some kind of peak experience. And so on. Few of us sign on looking to change the world; we're looking for something for ourselves.
One of the advantages of a sangha, beside having to sit through a lot of dharma talks about the importance of loving kindness and compassion, is that sooner or later you notice the people around you and realize they are hurting and seeking, too. And sooner or later you really care about their suffering and practice, not just yours.
This is very important; it's the beginning of the turning around from "Me, Myself and I" to "All Beings." There is a shared intimacy about practicing in a group that makes this turning particularly intense.
I get the impression that some of the self-taught Buddhists consider metta, etc., to be just nice, fuzzy sentiments that pass the time until wisdom comes along, and if you don't feel an urge to be lovingly kind, etc., you can just skip that part. But no, you can't. That would be like anticipating sprouts without bothering to plant seeds.
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