The Gift of Disillusionment
Disillusionment is not usually
spoken of in positive terms – stinging, as it does, with a sharpness commensurate
with our investment in the illusion. But as the stinging subsides, and awareness
of newfound truth comes to the fore, we find ourselves faced with a choice. We
can keep clinging, perhaps even with self-righteous indignation, to the
illusion that we were once so invested in. Or we can be grateful for the new
glimpse of truth that we’ve been given.
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| Seated Buddha in altar cabinet |
I was pretty disillusioned after parting ways with the teacher from whom I’d learned so much about formal Zen practice. It was wrenching to see someone descend into narcissistic delusion who I’d previously associated with a practice of awakening. I came to realize, however, that my disillusionment went much deeper than that of just one student/teacher relationship gone sour. I began to see my personal experience within the context of a religious system that seems to foster unhealthy power relationships with inordinate ease. Despite whatever religious insights a teacher might enjoy, they are quite often as lacking in mental and emotional health as the rest of us, even as they wield great interpersonal power with little meaningful oversight.
Despite my disillusionment, however, I never abandoned my practice of Zen. I’ve maintained a daily regimen, and continue to study the sutras and their commentary. But how many of us don’t continue after such a setback, or cannot continue for the lack of a model of how to proceed? I think of all those seekers who visited our temple and left disillusioned within a short period of time. I wondered about them even then. “Ours is a difficult practice,” was the frequent reply. “Americans do not have the same commitment as those in Japan,” I was told.
I now see my disillusionment as a gift. Sure, it ushered in a period of spiritual tumult and grief, but it also allowed me to continue practicing Zen as I never could have before. Something had grown cold in the heart of that temple. Practice had become rote, and oriented around one particular individual. It might sound strangely contradictory, but I found it easier to practice on behalf of all beings while practicing alone than in the oxygen-depleted environment that I left behind.
Disillusionment is a gift because
it unburdens us of illusion. And while our illusions may have been comforting,
meaningful, enjoyable, and even growth-enhancing for a time, if awakening is what
we truly seek, then all illusion must fall away. There is a so-called “Zen
story” that involves a dialogue between a student and his teacher. "I come
seeking liberation," the student proclaims. "Who has enslaved you?”
the teacher responds. “Can you show me your chains?” In retrospect, my
disillusionment “stole me away” from formal Zen practice even as it gave Zen
practice back to me in a way that allowed me to return to authenticity,
meaning, and continued growth. My disillusionment was like a mourning dove calling
me to awaken to newfound freedom.
Image
All
images are the author’s unless specifically noted otherwise.
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