Dharma Talk - Letter of Complaint

Dharma Talk April 6th, 2023

Cambridge Zen Center

This is not a talk, this is a letter of complaint.

A Letter of Complaint to The Zen Teacher who presided over my 168 hours of Kyol Che.

Dear Zen Master Kwan-Wu-Bon-Tan-Hae-Hae,

I write to complain about my week of Kyol Che with you. 

Though stated quite explicitly in the advertising material, I did not reach or even approach enlightenment. You confirmed this sad fact on numerous occasions, saying that hard training was necessary for me, though this hard training was also not mentioned in the onboarding material.

In fact, you refused to define or even talk about enlightenment, telling me that I already understood, hitting the floor with annoyance when I obviously didn’t understand.

You also took the best spot in the Dharma room. Right in the middle. With the best view. Overlooking the pond, the geese, the ducks, that owl across the morning sky one time. You sat in the middle. Never moving. Straight back. As still as stone. So peaceful. Like a Tiger.

You also were served your food first. Always taking a bit of everything. But it’s true, also serving others. Very handy with a knife you were, cutting through the fruit.  

You always got to walk at the head of the line too. Hands held. Head down. Walking. Gliding almost. Everyone following. Never taking a break, I noticed. For tea. Coffee was not allowed.

You always got to start the speed-chanting in the evening. Actually, I was glad you did. That was fun.

You also got to leave the Dharma room first. First class, but yes, high class too.

You drank coffee. Tsk, tsk. But you shared your coffee.

You told me to only work on one kong-an at a time, and not the six I wanted to try. You said to put the kong-an in the furnace, and let it bake. 

You told me that my energy had settled nicely. This was on Wednesday. I replied that I should start all Kyol Che’s on Wednesdays. You said this was dumb, which made us both laugh. Outside, the rain fell onto the roof, making its own wonderful noise. You said the rain was the best Sutra. 

You were a little unsettling sometimes.  A little too clear, a little too bright. 

I was working on a Kong-an about shooting two geese. You told me to notice the geese, a couple who lived on the pond. That they would bring an answer. They did. Squawking as they glided onto the water. Bringing me an answer. Yes, the wrong answer. Which we both enjoyed. 

When I said later that the geese can fly because they take themselves so lightly, you honked loudly at me. 

You did help me clarify my direction. You helped me find my job in life. It would be a very important job, a famous job, a job that appears in so many Zen stories and modern teachings. I would be the guy that cuts everyone off in traffic. Just Do It. 100 %. Go Straight, Don’t Know.

At the last interview, I sat down in front of you and talked but without making any sound. Then I leaned forward, and said sorry, that I had left my Zoom mute button on. We laughed together. Then you leaned forward and turned the mute button back on. 

You hit me with a stick at the end of each day. This was definitely not mentioned in the advertising materials. You hit everyone with the encouragement stick at the end of every day. Whack. I did not complain.