2002 Interview with Richard Hunn (Upasaka Wen Shu)

[Shi Da Dao]

Interviewer Note: Richard Hunn (Upasaka Wen Shu) died of pancreatic cancer in a Kyoto hospital bed in October, 2006. He was sat-up at the time, and his last words were “Let’s go to the bookshop and buy some Wordsworth”. He visited my London home regularly around August-September of each year, after he had finished his duties of escorting his Japanese students around various sites of interest in the UK. In August 2002, he signed my copy of Empty Cloud – the autobiography of Xu Yun (1840-1959), and consented to an informal interview which he agreed could be made public at some distant time. He then re-visited in September of that year, and establish the Chinese Ch’an Buddhism UK site – which was re-named in his honour following his death. In 2014 the Richard Hunn Association for Ch’an Study marks its tenth anniversary and its first decade of presence on the internet. Richard Hunn is this edition’s featured Ch’an teacher, and the first to be included ‘posthumously’ as the Richard Hunn Association for Ch’an Study is a founding member of the ICBI.

Interview dated 8.7.2002 – Location Sutton, London, UK.

Interviewer: Adrian Chan-Wyles (Upasaka Heng Yu)ICBI - Journal Archive
Interviewee: Richard Hunn (Upasaka Wen Shu)

ACW - Q: What is the point of Ch’an?

RH – A: Hahaha! You could have started with a question I could answer! Seriously though, you could have done that. In the Book of Change there is much talk of the ‘Junzi’ or as Wilhelm seems to call it the ‘Superior Person’. Well, this might be a useful indicator for training, but even this, as helpful as it is, must be dropped to ground so that we can travel light. Ch’an is both a technique for acquiring a certain something, whilst simultaneously representing the ‘certain something’ itself. Ch’an is both path and destination, form and void – and here’s the good news (or bad news depending on one’s point of view) – everything ‘superior’ and ‘inferior’ about our own inner selves and the often nasty outer world. It is that which is constantly changing before the six senses, the six senses themselves, and the karma producing habit that keeps it all going. Most importantly for peddlers of antidotes for the suffering of the world, Ch’an is also the underlying emptiness that everything arises and passes away within. I say ‘also’ as if it were a side issue, but this is not my meaning. Ch’an is nothing but the pure Dharmadhatu, the Tathagatagarbha, the Bhutatathata, and the Dharmakaya, etc. It is also the myriad manifestations of the world, and the world itself – nothing can escape its grasp and all bathes in its empty essence. The point of Ch’an is the empty (and real) essence of all phenomena – either good or bad – and all we have to do to transform our lives is see ‘into’ the fabric of our experiences, perceive the eternally shining, empty essence, and reconcile all duality in the process. In Hong Kong, people are attached to Hong Kong things, whilst in London, people are attached to London things – it is all the same, but our conditioned habits make it all seems so different. An expensive aeroplane flight links London to Hong Kong, but the Ch’an method links us – wherever we happen to be – to our empty mind ground. This is the point of Ch’an as I see it, but you should probably ask those who know about these matters.

ACW - Q: What is the ‘Bhutatathata’?

RH – A: Form and void completely and permanently integrated. It is nothing less than the realisation of full enlightenment – here and now – with no residue of dualistic thinking retained whatsoever. In my numerous conversations and interactions with Charles Luk (1898-1978), and when reading through Charles’ work, I see that he was very concerned about these things, particularly in the West where Buddhism (and Chinese Ch’an) is relatively new. He taught me that Bhutatathata refers to all phenomena that exists within empty essence, but that intellectually knowing this is just not good enough. Adrian, you know as well as I that Ch’an demands that every old habit be laid down and forgotten, and this emptiness personally realised exactly where we are. It is the same for all the other Buddhist technical terms – they all point to the empty essence, but approach from different intellectual trajectories. This kind of knowledge is certainly interesting – and coincidently, all true Ch’an masters possess it – but one-sided intellectual knowledge, on its own, is simply not good enough. Attachment to knowledge is exactly the same as attachment to anything else – this is why true Ch’an masters ‘know’ without ‘knowing’. All genuine knowing must emerge from emptiness (prajna), and not deluded ego (avidya). This the realisation of the ‘Tathagatagarbha’, or ‘Buddha-nature’ we hear so much about today. Within our being is the answer to suffering according to the Buddha – it does not exist elsewhere – hence all the wonderful technical terms developed to describe it! As the Buddha and his Dharma are inseparable, the two terms are often mixed and matched to refer to different descriptions of transcendental bodies of reality. The Dharmadhatu is the ‘Realm of Dharma’, and the Dharmakaya is the ‘Body of the Dharma’ – all different names for the same spiritual essence. It is better to lay it all down, and the mind will find its own natural level.

ACW - Q: What can you tell me about Master Xu Yun?

RH – A: Xu Yun was a modern enigma. Of course, I never met him in person – I was only 10 years when he shuffled=off his mortal coil – but I feel that I have spent a lifetime by his side. When Charles asked me to tidy-up his already excellent English translation of Xu Yun’s autobiography – Empty Cloud – my fate was already sealed in this regard! I feel that I have metaphorically sat at his feet, and in a strange way, I feel that I am always in his presence, and he in mine. My physical link is through my teacher Charles Luk (1898-1978) who spent many years associated with Xu Yun on the mainland of China. Xu Yun lived for a very long time – like an ancient tortoise – and certainly fulfilled the Chinese cultural notion of what it is to be a ‘sage’. He lived into late 1959 and was born in around 1839-1840 – I want this written very clearly. He was modest and retiring – what in the UK might be described as ‘laid back’ – but he possessed an iron-like will-power and did not suffer fools, particularly with regard to matters of Dharma-teaching. Xu Yun was very much like a time-traveller in our midst; a time traveller from deep within China’s antiquity. He was kind and gentle, but his wisdom was most definitely ‘diamond-like’ in its precision, depth, and scope – nothing could escape from its all-embracing capacity to be ‘aware’. Despite living in isolation atop the ancient Chinese mountains for decades, he mixed with the multitudes of the city and in so doing met a surprising number of Westerners – all of whom, without exception – were taken with him. In around 1952-1953 in Beijing, Xu Yun was the effective (moral) head of the newly reconstituted Chinese Buddhist Association, although in actual fact he declined this official post due to his ill-health and old age. However, he supported the election of the Bhikshu Yuan Ying to the official post of President of the Chinese Buddhist Association, and worked behind the scenes to ensure that a Tibetan – Sherab Gyatso – and a layperson – Zhao Bo Zhu – were elected into the roles of a shared Vice-Presidency. Xu Yun demanded – and secured from the national government – the right of religious freedom throughout the country, and that the safety and sanctity of monasteries and temples be protected under law. He single-handedly achieved all this on his own at the age of 113 years old! One year later (in 1953-1954), when in his 114th year of life, Xu Yun again attended a meeting of the Chinese Buddhist Association, and had to contend with a minority of Chinese monks – described as ‘degenerate’ in his biography – who had been influenced by the secularisation of the Buddhist monastic rules in Japanese. Japanese Zen monks can marry, raise a family, eat meat, and work for a wage, etc., and the Chinese monks in question obviously thought this was a good model worthy of emulation in China. Xu Yun listened quietly to their request and did not respond until they had finished, and had thoroughly made their case. He then suddenly hit the top of the table with his hand and in a loud and authoritative voice announced that the Dharma rested upon the existence of the Vinaya Discipline, and without it there could be no genuine Buddhism in China! Charles told me that both Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai were present at this meeting. Zhou looked at Mao after Xu Yun’s statement, and Mao nodded his agreement. With this simple act, the Vinaya was saved in a modernising China.

ACW - Q: Many speak of the power of Xu Yun’s personality, how do you view this?

RH – A: Well, the fact that we are still discussing his life story over 50 years since his death, is testament to the influence his presence in the world inspired for around 120 years, and still does so today. How lucky we are to know of him, and how blessed are we to continue his memory in the manner in which we are doing so! He cared very deeply about Ch’an Buddhism spreading, and was very concerned about the correct and authentic Dharma being transmitted to the West. He had thousands of lay and ordained disciples – and he entrusted numerous individuals with the task of this transmission. However, he understood that in the first instance, lay-people were probably more able to transmit the Ch’an Dharma as they were unencumbered by monastic traditions, and the conventions surrounding the ordained Sangha. The Christian and secular West had no Buddhist tradition to speak of, even though a handful of Westerners had ordained in other parts of Asia, but not China (other than the Hungarian monk Zhao Kong – but even he originally studied in Sri Lanka and preferred the Theravada Doctrine). Lay people, on the other hand, could travel light and as a consequence travel relatively vast distances without experiencing much problems. Two principle lay assistants (amongst many others), was the Nationalist scholar Cen Xue Lu, and Lu Kuan Yu (Charles Luk). Cen Xue Lu, in his youth, was involved in Nationalist (Guo Ming Tang) politics and saw Buddhism as a relic of the past. He ordered Buddhist temples to be destroyed to make way for the building of schools so that Chinese children could receive a modern education. Later, after he had met and trained with Xu Yun, it is said that he regretted these destructive acts, although he never gave-up the idea that all people deserve an education. It could be said that through Xu Yun’s direct and profound influence, Cen Xue Lu converted to the Dharma, or at least developed a healthy respect for it. Whatever the case, it was the reformed Cen Xue Lu who was entrusted by Xu Yun to collect and edit the text of his autobiography in the original Chinese language. This was no easy task, as Cen Xue Lu, as a Nationalist government supporter, left China with the victory of Mao Zedong’s forces in 1949. From his base in Hong Kong, he would wait to receive segment of the biography which had been smuggled out of the mainland into the British Crown Colony. This process began in the early 1950’s, and as Xu Yun continued living and making history, his biography had to be continuously updated, and editorially revised. It is safe to say that without the efforts of Cen Xue Lu, we might not have Xu Yun’s biography at all. Charles Luk – my teacher – had been visiting the West as early as the 1930’s trying to drum-up support for the Chinese Ch’an Dharma, but he had little tangible success. Although it seems odd now, Zen had started to gently penetrate into the West just prior to the Second World War. This is an ironic point as it coincided with the build-up of militarism in Japan and the manipulation of Japanese Zen so that it became a thoughtless philosophy in support of mindless murder. Today, we know that this was a distortion on a massive scale, but back then, things weren’t so clear. Anyway, after this groundwork, Xu Yun advised Charles to spread the Dharma through English translation, and allow the books to travel throughout the English world. English translation was the first port of call, and after Charles had made the first – and correct – English translations, other scholars would then make renderings in French, Spanish, and Italian, etc. For decades Charles sat at his simple desk in the heat of Hong Kong, day after day, and night after night, translating key Chinese Ch’an (and Daoist) texts into English. He translated until his eyesight failed him, and his body grew old and tired. I was with him in Hong Kong near the end, and he asked me to solemnly swear to carrying on his work after his death. Of course, as I owed Xu Yun and Charles so much, I did not hesitate to agree. Perhaps these two examples – of Charles Luk and Cen Xue Lu, demonstrate the power of Xu Yun’s deeply spiritual personality. Another example might be gleamed from the fact that he burnt off one of his fingers to repay his parent’s kindness for giving him life, and for the pain (and death) his mother suffered just after his birth. A number of other people have copied this painful act of attrition. Xu Yun’s personality was selfless and permanently directed toward doing good and putting others first.

ACW - Q: Where does Daoism fit in to all this?

RH – A: As you know, Charles taught me Ch’an and Daoism – you know this, because I have taught this system to you. Many ask me why it was that Charles Luk wrote about ‘Taoism’ when Xu Yun – in his biography – quite clearly states that he did not like the Daoist teachings. This must be viewed in its proper context. Master Xu Yun saw potentiality for growth and self-development within both the Daoist and Confucian Schools, but felt that if a Daoist or Confucian also practiced the Buddha-Dharma, then their Daoist and Confucian developmental technique would be greatly enhanced as a consequence. Throughout Chinese history, particularly since the Han Dynasty, there has been a tendency to integrate the great spiritual teachings of China, and Xu Yun s simply following in that tradition. As a youth he did not want to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a member of the Chinese civil service, or practice Daoism at home – even though his father did provide a Daoist master to personally guide him on that path. As he got older, however, Xu Yun became more aware of the intricacies and depth of Daoist teachings, and eventually encountered the Qian Feng School of the great contemporary Daoist master named Zhao Bichen. Zhao had been trained in traditional Daoist techniques, and many of his teachers had been either directly or indirectly influenced by Ch’an Buddhist practice. Zhao was a genius who merged modern (Western) science, with traditional (Chinese) science, Daoist longevity techniques, and Ch’an meditation upon the void and the attainment of an expansive mind. It is unclear exactly how Xu Yun encountered this school, but rumour has it that Zhao Bichen and Xu Yun privately met and trained together for a few days – sat facing one another in upright meditation with the eyes open for three days without moving to eat, drink, or answer the call of nature. Very few people know of this meeting. Xu Yun was impressed with Zhao – a layman – who had truly realised the empty essence of his mind in all circumstances, and who did not discriminate between this and that. Xu Yun said that in reality there is no difference in essence between laypeople, monastics, and the different paths and traditions they follow – but that the mind can make differences, or create a peaceful coexistence. Due to this link, Charles Luk was introduced to Zhao Bichen and studied under him for a short-time, before training under Zhao’s disciple surnamed ‘Chen’. Xu Yun’s attitude toward Daoism is that it is part and parcel of the Buddha-Dharma if the mind is thoroughly cultivated and its empty essence realised. From the Ch’an perspective, the realisation of the empty mind is the realisation and cultivation of the Dao – there is no difference, and an authentic Ch’an student should not set-up false distinctions. One ‘breaths’ during Ch’an meditation and this is the essence of qigong – or the Daoist cultivation of the breath which attains good health and enlightenment.

ACW - Q: What was Charles Luk’s experience with Daoism?

RH – A: Extensive, to say the least. Charles was a very well educated and refined gentleman, in both the Western and Eastern tradition. Being from Guangzhou, he was essentially an internationalist who had an interest in many different cultures, and cultural practices, but it was Ch’an Buddhism and Daoism that he was interested in the most, although he also had an innate interest in the Phowa teachings of Tibetan Buddhism – which he learnt through a Mongolian Lama. All these teachings have a direct link to the cultivation of the mind for Charles, who dedicated a great deal of scholarly endeavour toward their understanding and practice. These practices represented what Charles referred to as the ‘Tai Dao’, or ‘Grand Way’. Sometimes he referred to this integrated practice as the ‘Xin Dao’, or ‘New Way’, whilst humorously pointing-out that everything ‘new’ had its roots in everything ‘old’! This is the primary reason why he preferred the Daoism of Zhao Bichen – who might be adequately described as a ‘moderniser’ of Chinese spiritual traditions. Master Zhao did this in a manner that acknowledged the validity of the past, whilst advocating a thoroughly new approach to that body of traditional knowledge. Science, rationalism, gender equality, tolerance, non-discrimination, and many other aspects and attributes, were incorporated by Zhao into a framework of traditional Daoist knowledge. Of course, Zhao also understood the Ch’an method of realising the empty mind ground, and this served as a fundamental element of his advanced Daoist cultivation. In fact, what many do not realise is that Qian Feng Daoism is heavily influenced by the Ch’an Buddhism, and is the Daoism of choice for many Ch’an practitioners. Charles met Zhao Bichen in the late 1930’s, and received initiation into his Daoist school of a ‘Thousand Peaks’, before learning under a senior disciple. Master Zhao asked Charles to translate the Qian Feng teachings into English, and this eventually became the English book in the West entitled ‘Taoist Yoga’, although this project was not finished for many decades. Charles chose what he considered to be the ‘essential’ teachings of the Qian Feng School to introduce English speakers to its unique teachings. After that time, he continued to deepen his Ch’an and Daoist realisation of emptiness, and to open the energy channels that link the mind, body, and environment. The Dharmakaya, Sambhogakaya, and the Nirmanakaya of Buddhism, equates with the Shen, Jing, and Qi of Daoism – as the energy flow within the body is inherently linked with the energy flow within (and through) the environment. The penetrating of this apparent duality to the unity beyond (that is not limited to itself), is the central point of Ch’an Buddhism and Qian Feng Daoism. Charles also trained with many other Daoist practitioners, teachers, students, disciples, and fellow travellers, and was always seeking-out genuine spiritual knowledge – wherever it might be found. To this end, he was also very interested in the Western mystical traditions, and in how Buddhist and Daoist teachings could be interfaced with these distinct historical experiences. He tried never to be attached to any one person or circumstance, and agreed with the English saying that a rolling stone gathers no moss.

ACW - Q: The Phowa training appears to be very technical and precise, what can you say about its practice.

RH – A: What both Xu Yun and Charles advocated was the student of the Great Way acquired true and genuine knowledge, so that they should not be misled by hearsay, superstition, or plain ignorance. Ignorance equates with ‘suffering’, whilst true and genuine knowledge equates with ‘freedom from suffering’. Charles Luk trained extensively in the Tibetan Phowa tradition through a high Mongolian Lama. He attained to a very rarefied level of development way beyond that of the ordinary world. What must be understood is that Ch’an, Daoism, and Phowa, are all distinct paths heading toward the same destination. Where Ch’an unites and transcends form and void, Daoism unites and transcends the internal and the external – Phowa is a continuation and clarification of the process of the understanding of diversity existing within unity. Although technically speaking Phowa advocates the transference of consciousness from one existence to the next (through the crown of the top of the head), in reality, if the state of non-dual enlightenment is attained to, where is there to go, and what is there that can travel there? The Buddha taught that the human mind is a collection of aggregates that come together through conditioning, and fall apart through exactly the same conditioning. Consciousness is not permanent, but is dependent upon a sense organ making contact with its appropriate sense object – the eye with visual stimulus, for example – and without this contact, consciousness does not arise. On the other hand, the Phowa teachings, in their simple form, offer hope to those who think that a separate ‘spirit’ or permanent consciousness exists, and slowly leads them toward the transcendence of this mistaken view at the highest level of attainment. Charles studied Phowa to be clear about the non-dual nature of reality.

ACW - Q: How do you explain the concept of the ‘Enlightened Layperson’?

RH – A: First of all I must say that such a term is humorous for me – as it was for Charles – but I feel it has a certain expedient function. The lineage of the enlightened layperson is not real, empty, and non-existent in the three periods of time. It has never been set-up or established as a concept separate and distinct from the empty mind ground, and as such has never deviated from the Buddha’s own mind and teaching. What is its purpose? It has a certain shock-value to those who have a one-sided attitude toward cultivation, and who then set-up a discriminating mind which they mistake for the all-embracing and impartial Buddha-nature. Those who are attached to shaven heads, robes, and Buddha-beads, are just as deluded as those attached to the six senses – no difference can be found. If you can truly ‘see through’ this concept, then your mind will have completely ‘turned around’ and all things will be perceived as they really are. Some Buddhist traditions choose to interpret the Dharma with a bias toward the ordained Sangha, but this is correct and the product of developed ideology rather than the Buddha’s actual words. Both the Buddha and Hui Neng make it clear that all beings – lay or monastic – can realise enlightenment equally. This fact is further attested to through the example set in the Vimalakirti Nirdesa Sutra. The lineage of the enlightened layperson is a medicine designed to take away an illness – once the illness has subsided, the medicine is no longer required. It is an expedient to inspire ordinary beings to enter directly into the realisation of ‘emptiness’, and not to settle for second best because they do not believe they can gain enlightenment. It was Xu Yun who suggested this title to Charles, and on occasion I like to use it with my students. What must be born in mind is that the illness and the medicine that cures it, are both equally illusionary and without any foundation in reality. Sit in your home, or sit in the monastery – what does it matter? In the end it is exactly the same empty mind ground that is realised. If the empty mind ground is not penetrated, then a Dharma-name and a lineage certificate mean absolutely nothing other than more ego. Whilst the human mind continues to discriminate, laypeople will need to be enlightened – hence the concept – but as the ancient Ch’an masters say, it is best to lay everything down and travel lightly. A ‘lay’ person must ‘lay’ down their own sense of ‘person’ if they are to be enlightened – this is why the status of ‘layperson’ is not ultimately real. It is better to directly ‘see’ here and now and forget about this nonsense!

ACW - Q: What is the difference, if any, between Chinese Ch’an and Japanese Zen?

RH – A: In essence, nothing at all; in practice, virtually everything – it all depends on how you enter the subject. Both systems are inherently related, (after-all, Zen grew out of Ch’an), and both purport to teach a method to realise the empty mind ground as taught by the Buddha. This is a true assumption. When viewed in this manner, the differences are merely superficial, and a matter of surface expression, but it is exactly the surface expression we call ‘culture’ that makes things appear different. Japanese history and culture is not Chinese history and culture, and the different historical conditionings of each culture is expressed differently through their respective spiritualties. This means that the Zen interpretation does not always accord with the Ch’an interpretation. When in conversations with Indians, one or two have often made the comment that in their opinions, neither Ch’an nor Zen are fully in accordance with Indian Buddhism! What does this practically mean? Japanese scholarship has developed in a different direction from that of Chinese scholarship, and there are a number of subtle, but important differences from an academic position. This means that the Japanese view of Chinese Buddhism – and by implication Chinese culture in general – is not in accordance with how Chinese scholarship views its own traditions, and how ordinary Chinese people view their own culture. As Japanese Zen Buddhism became well known in the West, it has been a Western habit of viewing China through the eyes of Japanese scholarship – as if the latter is a clear reflection of the former – which of course it is not, generally speaking. A brief example of this phenomena is that the Chinese Linji Ch’an School does not advocate sitting with a gong-an – as the Japanese Rinzai tradition encourages; and the Chinese Cao Dong School does not emphasis ‘silent sitting’, as does the Japanese Soto tradition. This can be seen with even a cursory reading of the Chinese Tang Dynasty Ch’an Records (translated by Charles Luk). These facts do not make the Japanese Zen traditions wrong – on the contrary – they only serve to emphasis its distinctiveness, but an equal importance should also be granted to Chinese Buddhist culture, which should not be incorrectly perceived as merely an appendage to Japanese culture. Without Chinese Ch’an, Japanese Zen would not exist, and Western academia should clearly recognise this fact of history. It is also important that modern Japanese scholars and Buddhist practitioners strive to combine a correct historical interpretation with their Buddhist practice as part of ‘right thought’ and ‘right speech’. Having said all this, anyone who sincerely sits quietly and looks within, none of this matters, whether in the West, China, or Japan!

ACW - Q: What is the state of enlightenment?

RH – A: Enlightenment, at least from the Ch’an perspective, is not an intellection, understanding, or clever argument. It is not an efficient use of words, certificates of qualifications, or a matter of social status. It is difficult and easy simultaneously and it all depends upon where our minds are at this exact moment. You will notice that the Buddha spent much of his time teaching exactly what enlightenment is not, rather than defining exactly what enlightenment is. This is to stop practitioners grasping their own ego-understanding and mistaking it for true enlightenment. The ego will run after and grasp numerous shadows and mistake them for light. Ch’an does not tolerate this situation, and uses the sword of wisdom (prajna) to cut-down all delusion and illusion – this is compassion – and every true Ch’an master is an expert in it. It is true that reality is beyond words and letters, but it is equally true that we know this through the presence and absence of said vehicle. Realising the essence of that which underlies perception is not the end of the matter – if it were, this would just be an escapist trap. No, after the realisation of the emptiness that lies just behind (and through) form, the mind (and its functioning) is placed the right way up and this means that it gains the ability to think in three dimensions instead of the usual two. Ordinary delusion, even at its highest level of academic achievement is incomplete and two-dimensional, with perhaps the odd genius catching a glimpse of full functionality. The enlightened being, on the other hand, arrives at this place by temporarily abandoning all two-dimensional intellection for he duration of the training. When the training is complete, and the mind essence fully cognised, the full strength of wisdom – known as prajna in Sanskrit – becomes operation and there is no feat of mind that is not achievable. All things are correctly understood in their essential manifestation, and although there is diversity without end, all is perceived as arising and passing away within an infinite emptiness. This has very important implications for science and scientific development, because although the world appears to be abandoned by the aspiring ascetic, this is only a temporary stage of preparing the mind and body for a full re-entry into it, through the post-enlightenment state. For practical reasons, there must be some kind of schematic to guide the aspirant along, or valuable time will be wasted exploring and becoming attached to blind alleys. When he mind is first examined, it is nothing more than a plethora of confusion. This confusion is the continuous swirling of habitual thought patterns and emotional cycles. This is the basis of our historically conditioned prison that we inhabit termed ‘our lives’. Gathering and focusing the mind is the purpose of the gong an and hua tou method. The mind is ‘stilled’ through bringing all the swirling mass of delusion back to a single phrase or single word. This is disciplining the mind so that it does not wander around attaching itself to external stimuli. Sometimes the mind can be ‘stilled’ either temporarily or permanently by a well-placed word or action generated through the actions of a Ch’an master. When the mind is ‘stilled’, this is only relative enlightenment and still within the realm of two-dimension delusion. For three-dimensionality to occur, this two-dimensionality must be thoroughly abandoned so that the mind (and its awareness of itself) appear to expand and embraced the entire environment and everything existing within it. I say ‘appear’ because this is also an illusion of perception. What is actually happening – according to Ch’an – is that the barrier that prevents multidimensional seeing is suddenly removed, or dissolved. This process of ever-expanding perception might also be explained as the process of insight rectification – as Charles Luk liked to refer to it in private. There is nothing new being imported into the mind. Enlightenment is merely the mind perceiving its own functionality in a thoroughly correct fashion, whilst delusion is the state that prevails when the mind does not perceive its functionality correctly, and is off constantly chasing shadows. Enlightenment is seeing correctly without distraction. It is not theistic escapism, mysticism, or religion, but the profound experience of ‘whole-mind’ functionality in the present moment – a functionality that permanently reconciles all base duality and the suffering generated therefrom.

ACW - Q: What is your view about Buddhism in the contemporary West?

RH – A: The underlying and empty mind ground is the same in Beijing, London, and New York – so we can truthfully say that location does not matter, and it is also exactly the same mind ground that existed since the year dot – so time does not matter. Given that geographical location, and time period do not matter, how do I view Buddhism in the West? A better question might be how should Buddhism within ego be viewed? If the mind is aware of its own existence and functionality beyond vulgar instinct, then the outer garb, or set of conditioned circumstances do not really matter. It is not necessarily place and time that are the issues, but rather the nature of the practice. Ego is the enemy, and it is ego hat either assists or denies entry into the Dharma. Of course it is true that different cultures, languages, and conventions, does make the modern West a very different place than ancient India, but this fact should not detain us for any great length of time. Suffice to say, where there is excessive ego – the Dharma will be distorted – this is the same East or West. The West approaches Buddhism from all kinds of academic, religious, superstitious, and secular perspectives and positions. This means that Buddhist philosophy – which is complete in and of itself – is filtered through other unrelated philosophical systems and this can give rise to hybrid schools of though and practice that move away – in theory – from the pristine Buddhist philosophy. What do I think about this situation? As long as the fundamental Buddhist method is both understood and used effectively, the integration with other systems is good, because Buddhism is made available to people in different cultural and philosophical positions. Their different systems are used as conduits for Buddhist philosophy. However, should the opposite be true – that is that the different systems in question engage Buddhism simply to negate, over-whelm, and replace the fundamental Buddhist philosophy, then we have a situation where Buddhism is being destroyed through engagement by different and antagonistic systems. At the present time, both situations exist in the West – but also in the East where Christian missionaries from the West actively seek to convert Asians away from their indigenous belief systems – including Buddhism. Part of the problem has not been a lot of genuine knowledge about Buddhism in the West, simply because there has not been very good translation work carried-out between Pali, Sanskrit, and Chinese languages, into English. As you know, this is the functional point of our lineage – which is really a lineage of translators. We carry on the work of Kumarajiva, and many others. As Xu Yun said, all it takes for Buddhism to be effective, is a genuine knowledge of the Dao – or Way – and everything else will fall into place. There is no valid reason why the West cannot excel at Buddhist practice – as many Westerners are very sincere and dedicated beings. This is a point that both Xu Yun and Charles Luk both understood and which served as the motivation behind their actions to make the Dharma accessible to people outside of China.

ACW - Q: Why did you become interested in Buddhist philosophy and practice?

RH – A: I was not born a Buddhist, as you know, but into a more or less Christian environment in Norwich, in the UK. I became interested in Buddhism because I believe fervently in establishing world peace. I think in a previous life I was both Chinese and Buddhist – and this has influenced my life this time round. Of course, I have no way of proving this from a rational perspective, but this sense that I have, has always governed my academic interested (both private and professional) from studying the Chinese language, to translating ancient texts, etc. It is true that I am a Ch’an Buddhist – but one must not be attached to anything – even Ch’an! I see a common and underlying reality which I see as the essence of all spiritual, philosophical, and secular systems. All we have to do is collectively realise this commonality for peace to prevail in the world. I am not interested in systems that teach a shallow fundamentalism, or which use a distorted philosophy (or theology) to present an obvious bias to the world. One-sided ego is a pointless, stagnant, and potentially violent entity that distorts developmental philosophy and diverts vulnerable people down hellish paths. Inequality in the world can be cured through the realisation of the Buddha-nature. Buddhism is an important corpus of knowledge and deserves to be correctly transmitted to, and effectively preserved in the West. This is why I used to write book reviews for the Middle Way Journal of London’s Buddhist Society. I praised and criticised in equal measure. I was with Charles in Hong Kong shortly before his death, and one of the last things he said to me was that I should help preserve the true Ch’an Dharma in the West, and continue his work of translation. I have pursued this objective ever since and from around 1991, I have been studying the origins of Chinese Ch’an in Japan – collecting photographs, statistics, and data – whilst teaching English literature to Japanese students. Believe or not, but I have managed to establish the Kyoto Ch’an Group for Japanese people interested in Chinese Ch’an. I have a small but dedicated group that really does understand the Chinese connection – even though the Chinese influence is played down within the Japanese education system. In a way I am reminded of my younger days at Essex University – where we established a Chinese Buddhist Association which saw mainland Chinese, diasporic Chinese, and British Chinese all mix together, joined by Westerners, Indians, and Africans, etc. At its peak, everyone meditated peacefully together – this is the power of the Dharma that over-comes all differences through the practice of non-attachment.

ACW - Q: What is the meaning of your Dharma-name ‘Wen Shu’?

RH – A: Charles Luk gave me this name because it is the Chinese for the Bodhisattva Manjushri – the Bodhisattva of Wisdom who helps everyone who is in need of assistance. Of course, there must be no attachment to names, and in my case, the attributes of Manjushri are those that Charles thought best suited my natural abilities and capabilities. Manjushri is an example that I strive to follow with humility throughout my life, always helping those who are on the journey. This is the exercise of both compassion and wisdom – two well-known attributes of Manjushri. However, names are only indicators and pointers to something else and if we ascribe too much meaning to their written or verbal form, then we run the risk of missing completely what the name is indicating. Wen Shu reminds me of how much work I still have to do, and in which direction I must travel. It is one of a number of names that Charles Luk gave to me – the others are strictly private and linked to various and specific practices. Charles was involved in certain Lamaist teachings that demand such a total commitment to practice, that even talking about them has the capacity to water-down the process, and so it is with Dharma-names. There are public Dharma-names and there are personal and private Dharma-names – Wen Shu just happens to be my public Dharma-name – that is all.

Sutton - London - 8.7.02

This interview was first published in the September 2014 edition of the International Ch'an Buddhism Institute (ICBI):

ICBI - Journal Archive