One Time, One Meeting

Zoketsu Norman Fischer Roshi

In his e-book Suffering and Possibility, the Zen teacher Norman Fischer discloses what he calls “the great and beautiful secret” of meditative practice. Elementary in nature but far-reaching in significance, the realization to which he refers has the capacity to transform both our outlook and our experience of everyday life.

Fischer’s general subject is the human condition, of which human suffering, broadly defined, is an inescapable part. Like other teachers in the Zen tradition, Fischer distinguishes between necessary and unnecessary suffering. The former arises from external conditions over which we have little or no control: war, famine, disease, aging, natural disasters, and the like. The latter is created by our own minds, specifically by our conditioned and often unskillful responses to the troubles we incur. Yet, whether human suffering, known as dukkha in Buddhist teachings, be deemed necessary or self-inflicted, it is an integral and unavoidable aspect of human experience.

This is not a popular view. As Fischer pointedly observes, many people regard the suffering they experience, especially the travails and setbacks of ordinary life, as “some sort of mistake,” a “minor problem that [they] could overcome with a little bit of meditation and a positive attitude.” For Fischer, this view is the “towering pinnacle of human self-deception.” Far from being a mistake, suffering is woven into the fabric of human existence. Rather than try to get rid of it, he advises, we would do better to understand it as an existential truth, which Zen practice may help us to ameliorate.

According to classical Buddhist teachings, the root cause of conditioned suffering lies in a fundamental ignorance of the laws of reality, particularly those of impermanence and interdependence. Whether consciously or not, most of us view the world from a self-centered perspective. And quite naturally, we want the things of the world to be graspable, knowable, and stable. But reality thwarts that desire at every turn, and the discordancy between our wishes and things as they are creates continuous suffering. In Fischer’s words, dukkha arises from the “profound fact that everything is impermanent, ungraspable, and not really knowable.” Because that fact is at odds with our expectations, “pain, suffering, and loss are built into every moment of consciousness.”

Fischer’s analysis is disquieting, to say the least. But, having propounded this unsparing view of human existence, he offers this reassurance:

The great and beautiful secret of meditation practice is this: you can experience dukkha with equanimity. Isn’t equanimity the secret of happiness? If you tried to eliminate dukkha, it would be like trying to eliminate life. But if you can receive dukkha with equanimity, then, in a way, it’s no longer dukkha. Impermanence can be the most devastating fact of life, and often is. But impermanence can also be incredibly beautiful, if you receive it with equanimity. It can be peace itself.

Receive dukkha with equanimity? Fischer’s abstract formulation, akin to Ernest Hemingway’s “grace under pressure,” presents an inspiring vision. At first glance, that vision might seem idealized, if not wholly unrealistic. But with patience and persistence, Fischer contends, it can indeed be realized, if supported by three attendant practices.

First, we can practice turning our attention toward whatever suffering we encounter. Whether it take the form of anxiety or fear, impatience or frustration, we can make our suffering an object of sustained contemplation. Rather than try to expunge it, we can endeavor, in Fischer’s words, to “take it in, find the meaning in it, and let it open a path for us to a new life.” The aim is not to dwell on our suffering or its causes; rather, it is to see and clearly recognize our experience for what it is.

Second, we can cultivate an attitude of active acceptance. Confronted with a personal loss, a financial reversal, or a grave diagnosis, some of us may adopt an attitude of stoic resistance; others, a stance of passive resignation. But there is a third possibility, which is that of wholehearted engagement. We can accept the reality of what has occurred, while also working to effect the best possible outcome. And by fully accepting the facts at hand, we can ground our hopes on actual conditions.

Third and most important, we can avail ourselves of what Fischer calls the “balm” of Zen meditation:

I don’t know of anything more effective in helping us be with the truth of suffering than a basic, unadorned meditation practice, just silence. To simply sit in the present moment of being alive here and now . . . feeling the support that comes from the life force in us, that we are alive, that we are breathing—when we do that, we can experience whatever arises and passes away in the mind, without fear.

By such means, employed over time, we can discover for ourselves the “beautiful secret” of meditative practice: that the suffering of this world, our own included, can be met by the healing presence of a balanced mind.

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Norman Fischer, Suffering and Possibility (Parallax Press, 2014), Kindle Edition.