An Interview with Bill Porter (Red Pine 赤松), Part 3
Discussing Buddhism, Daoism & The Path
Hello, and welcome to the third and final part of my interview with author Bill Porter. I’m thrilled to share this last instalment with you — it covers some of the topics closest to my heart and I personally learnt so much from Bill’s observations and advice. I’ve broken this piece into two parts. First, a general discussion about Buddhism and Daoism. Second, questions about awakening, teaching and the path.
You can read part one here and part two here.
Discussing Buddhism & Daoism
Following on from the issue of having to use imperfect words in the translation of spiritual texts [see part 2], how do you think Chan (Zen) Buddhism and Daoism make use of words?
“These artists, let’s just call them artists, are trying to do the impossible and present something in words that can’t be put into words. Despite this, they use thousands, hundreds of thousands of words. Zen Buddhism is the most loquacious approach to spirituality, oddly enough.
Daoism is a little different. Because the nature of transmission in Daoism is so personal, Daoist texts are often recondite and filled with code words. Also, a teacher will use certain words in ways that other teachers won’t. When I was interviewing hermits, young hermits would very often complain that the master only teaches a handful, a couple of disciples, everything. Everybody else gets the more general stuff. So Daoism is quite different from Buddhism in terms of transmission and use of language.”
Aside from the differences in language and transmission, what do you think are the principal differences between Chan Buddhism and Daoism?
“Westerners like ourselves who didn’t grow up with these traditions come at them from the outside, and usually view them as a bunch of concepts. We conceptualise these two approaches, but really they reflect different doors. You can't walk through more than one door at a time. For Daoists, it’s the body door, for Buddhists it’s the mind door and for Confucians it’s the social door. These doors attract very different people, but once you’ve walked through one of these doors, there are no longer any doors. Imagine a burning house. There are three doors to get out the burning house. You can choose this door or that door, but once you’re out the burning house, doors are no longer of interest. But to get to the point where there are no doors, you have to walk through a door!
Daoism and Buddhism are traditions that require a different way of remaking everything, of remaking the world you live in and your own idea of self. They’re different ways of doing all of that, like taking a watch apart and putting it back together. You have to take yourself apart, you take your world apart and then put it back together again. And when you do, when you practise each tradition and go into them, you see they're not the same. But in a sense, they're not different, either.”
Would you broaden this idea to include traditions in the West, such as Orthodox Christian mysticism or Sufism? Do you believe that there is a shared inner core to these traditions, perhaps akin to something like the perennial philosophy?
“My knowledge of Christianity is simply a faith based idea that begins with the belief that Jesus Christ was the son of God, so I don’t want to speak too much about something I don’t know much about. However, other approaches don’t have such cornerstones — they’re open ended, they take you wherever you may go. On the other hand, Islam and Christianity carry this albatross around their neck — the body of Jesus Christ for Christians and the body of Mohammad and his teachings for Islam. If you’re a Christian or a Muslim, you can’t go beyond these two things. For people who are capable of such belief but are still able to transcend those beliefs in their practice, in the practice of prayer for example, then yes I would say there is a similarity.
It's not that the teachings aren't capable of inspiring transcendence. They certainly are. It’s that these teachings come with the problem of faith.”
I’ve heard that there is a strong tradition of Chan Buddhists in China engaging in energetic practice. For example, Shaolin qigong systems, or more esoteric Buddhist forms of internal alchemy. Have you ever encountered this with any of the Buddhists you have met?
“I’ve found that many Buddhists who go into the mountains to become hermits are very good at meditation, but don’t know any qigong. However, when you go into the mountains in China, you don't just go to just any mountain, you go to a mountain where there are other practitioners. There are certain mountains that are good for practice. When you go to one of these mountains, there's people on the mountain who teach the newcomers. They teach them qigong because, first of all, you get sick. That's one of the main reasons why you learn qigong in the mountains and why you, as a newly arrived meditator, are interested in learning it. People there are willing to teach it because they know you are going to need it. Just like how people on the mountain teach newcomers how do identify plants. Which ones are medicinal? What time of year do you dig it up? Is it the root you’re after? And are these things you can sell? So you can buy some food. Like grain, for example.
So, qigong is definitely practiced by anybody who goes into the mountains, but when they go into the mountains they may not know anything about qigong. I've met a lot of people who didn’t, but they learnt it for its health benefits and also for prolonging meditation. There's just a number of things that enable people to live in solitude.
In the monasteries, not so much. I'm beginning to see it in the last, say, 10 years. I've been seeing it in monasteries now, but that's because everybody is becoming hip. In the past you just did your tradition, but now they're reading books and they're interested in expanding their awareness of skills that they can use. But frankly, I don't know if it's common in monasteries outside of that. It's just like playing with a new toy. But in the mountains, it's serious business. You definitely need qigong if you're gonna stay in the mountains.”
And how do you see that fitting in with some of the more traditional, perhaps more esoteric systems of, say, internal alchemy? Have you met many hermits who are practising that kind of thing?
“Oh sure, yes lots. But only Daoists. The Buddhists are generally only using qigong for health benefits. But you get a lot of Daoist hermits in China as well, although not as many. Perhaps 20% of hermits I’ve met in China are Daoist, 80% are Buddhist.
Of course, Daoism is the native Chinese religion and lots of people practise it in their lives. There’s a lot of qigong practice going on in China, and they do a lot of cultivation techniques, but they tend to be a teacher with a group of disciples. They may not be in the mountains, they may have a small temple somewhere. But the Daoists, they have a problem…”
Do you mean with the government?
“The Daoists have inspired every revolution in Chinese history. There have always been these Daoist inspired movements, in which the government has somehow ‘lost the Dao’ and someone appears with a vision of how to implement it again in society. Suddenly, there are these big movements, the government is swept aside and a new dynasty is established. Falun Gong is a good example. It's why the government represses it. So, Daoists have the problem of how they're perceived by the government. You might say the Daoists are sewing their seeds on rocky soil.
In terms of Buddhism, it’s Pure Land Buddhism that is really big in China and Taiwan. In many respects, it’s the form of Buddhism most like Christianity. The government likes that, but is also afraid of it because they have big events with a hundred thousand people attending. So, Buddhism is also a problem for the Chinese government. Daoists are a problem only because of their history, Buddhists are a problem for what they are today.”
During the upheavals of the 20th century, many Daoist lineages were broken and their transmissions lost. Some of these traditions were recreated in the Reform Era [1980s & 90s], but unfortunately lack real internal methods. Because many masters moved with the nationalists to Taiwan in 1949, is it the case that Taiwan became a repository for traditional culture broadly, and authentic Buddhist and Daoist practice in particular?
“Yes, and no. When I went to Taiwan in 1972, there was very little Buddhism in Taiwan. There was very little Buddhism or Daoism of note in Taiwan until the nationalists retreated there at the end of the civil war. Before then there was only folk religion. There weren’t that many people in Taiwan. In Chinese history, Taiwan has always been somewhere that people retreat to as a last resort when there is famine or a war. The Daoist masters that I met in Taiwan had come over in 1949, often as soldiers because everyone was conscripted in the war. Because the Daoists tended not to be monks, they were conscripted. Even some of the Buddhist masters that I met had been soldiers, although many of them remained monks during the war. So, in the 1950s there was a bunch of old monks and nobody supporting them. No congregations. And there were definitely also Daoist teachers, but they had no following. They had to establish that, and they were just beginning to establish it in the 1970s when I got there. I knew people there that studied taiji, qigong and various other internal arts with them. They were just getting started then.”
If you were speaking to someone who was interested in Daoism, would you recommend they went to Taiwan in order to find some of the authentic, unbroken teachings that was unaffected by government repression?
“I think if you're going to study any aspect of Chinese culture, it's worth going. That doesn’t mean that it’s not worth going to the mainland. There’s something equally valuable in China, but you may have a harder time finding it. I think it’d be easier to find a teacher in Taiwan than it would be in China.”
Awakening, Teaching & The Path
I’ve always seen you as key in the tradition of Western authors and translators that transmitted Buddhism to the West in the 20th century. Looking at the most famous members of this tradition of the generation previous to you, people like Alan Watts and DT Suzuki, do you see them as great men, as inspirational figures with a high degree of awakening and wisdom?
“I don't think about that. Their books pass on the knowledge of others, it doesn’t make a statement about ourselves as transmitters. I have never really thought about how I view Alan Watts or DT Suzuki — thanks for they work, perhaps. Yes, I was more interested in thanking them for their work, and I did recently thank DT Suzuki when I published my Zen Roots book recently. It was basically a rein visioning of his Manual of Zen Buddhism. So yes, I guess I view them how I view myself. We’re all flawed transmitters. As translators, passing on information, but as practitioners also.”
Do you think you have met great masters? People who, through their practice, have become far less flawed than the rest of us?
“Oh sure, yes. Especially in the mountains, but also in the monasteries as well.”
And do you feel like you've met anyone who has realised the full fruit of the path?
“I don’t think, I don't think there is a full fruit of the path.”
Okay. What about something like awakening, or enlightenment? Something akin to what the Buddha experienced under the Bodhi Tree.
“Oh, I don't know about that. We've made that into such a concept. I've met real people, who are real teachers. That's about all I'd be willing to say, because I don't want to over praise them, but I don't want to undervalue them either.”
I'm thinking a lot about how to present these things in a way that is authentic and has integrity.
“You have to discover your voice. You have to. It takes a while.”
Are there techniques, methods for finding voice?
“Yes. Experience. It's like translation, you can't have too many dead ends. Also, I tell people the result of spending time in solitude is that you develop your own voice. When practitioners go into the mountains, they’ve been studying with teachers and all these voices are ringing around in their head. Their teacher’s voice, this book or this sutra. But when you spend time alone, you develop your own voice and when you come down the mountain, you have to talk. It has to be this kind of mountain experience, where you have put aside all these teachings that you’ve learnt and just get through your daily life. Feed yourself, grow vegetables, cook dinner, chase rabbits out of the garden. Not everybody is a teacher. There's no reason to teach. It's a gift. Some people develop this, this energy and they become good teachers. but if you want to teach, you're going to be a bad teacher. Somebody who really wants to teach is going to force the issue. Other voices will end up taking over their own voice. When it’s your voice, it comes from nowhere. It doesn’t come from this idea or that idea, it comes from nowhere.”
Within Daoism, they often speak about having one foot in and one foot out. The idea that we have to refine ourselves in society as well as through our internal practice. So, I have reservations about leaving society completely.
“The Chinese say that the small hermit lives in the mountains, and the great hermit lives in town.”
And is that your experience? Have you found any great hermits in town?
“They're in town… You're never going to find them in town.”
[laughter] But really, have you ever come across any?
“No. They're hidden. That's why they're great hermits, but they're there.”
Wonderful.. all three parts very informative and a comfortable read. Thank you
An excellent ending to this three part series, interviewing a remarkable man.