Transformative Practices

An Esalen Invitational Conference

November 28 - December 2, 1999

Form and Formless in Spiritual Practice

Kaisa Puhakka

Kaisa noted that most of the major spiritual traditions recognize a distinction between
what she called "perfection of form" and "realization of the formless." The "formless" is
variously understood as "shunyata," "Godhead," "Nirguna Brahman," etc. but in every
case, it refers to what lies beyond particular forms and manifestations, such as ethical
virtues or psychospiritual powers. Many also recognize that while the realization of
formless is the summum bonum of spiritual life, there is really no practice that would
serve as a means to it. The various spiritual and other transformative practice, on the
other hand, are means to some end (the form that is being perfected).

The means vs. ends dualism keeps the end forever beyond the practitioner's reach as
something "transcendent." For Kaisa, the formless is immanent as much as it is
transcendent, is ‘here" as much as it is ‘there." It is like the clear sky into which our
mental structures and schemas dissolve. It is also the birth place of new and fresh visions.

Kaisa had a bit of consternation about the exclusive emphasis in the talking points for the
conference on transformative practices as a means to some goal or end. She pointed out
that the pragmatic mindset of a would-be practitioner who is shopping around for the
optimal transformative practice (that will get her from "here" to "there" in the quickest
and most effortless manner) presupposes this dualism of means and ends. Yet, as soon as
the realization of the formless is recognized as the ultimate aim, we have a paradox,
namely, that the realization of the formless is the realization that the very means vs. ends
dualism is an illusion. So the pragmatic mindset lands the practitioner in a dilemma: The
optimal practice is the best means for realizing the illusoriness of the "means vs. ends"
dualism. But because it is the best means for this realization, the dualism cannot be
considered an illusion!

How does a practitioner get out of this knot and the pragmatic mindset that gets her
caught up in it? Kaisa believes that there is no practice for getting out of the pragmatic
mindset, but there is a way of shifting the mindset. Kaisa feels very indebted to
Nagarjuna, the 2nnd century Buddhist dialectician, for helping make this shift. When Kaisa
studied Nagarjuna in graduate school, some of her class mates fell into a kind of "dark
night of the soul" after being exposed to Nagarjuna's relentless analyses. For some
reason, however, her own response was to feel liberated. Jeff asked why it was liberating
to her while it had the opposite effect on the others. Kaisa speculated that they fell into
nihilism because Nagarjuna left nothing for them to hang on to, but for her, he took away
a veil.

Kaisa then explained the form of Nagarjuna's dialectic, the so-called four-cornered
negation (catuskoti). Any thesis or proposition (P) that is asserted as true generates four
alternatives that exhaust all possibilities: 1) P is true, 2) not-P is true (the opposite claim),
3) both P and not-P are true, and 4) neither P nor not-P is true.

Kaisa next discussed how the four-cornered negation applies to transformative practices
and the claims or beliefs we have about their truth or effectiveness. The pragmatic
mindset predisposes us to operate within stances 1) (Certain practices are the "best" for
certain purposes) and 2) (These practices are not the "best" for these purposes.) The type
of consciousness that goes with this is an exclusive "either/or" thinking. Stance 3, which
affirms both P and not-P, would go with a more inclusive "both/and" thinking. This might
be illustrated in the practice context by a vipassana practitioner who has come to see
anything and everything that happens as grist for the practice mill. The fourth stance is
tricky, Kaisa felt, because we don't have in our contemporary transpersonal discourse the
kind of thinking that goes beyond the inclusive "both/and" to a kind of transparency of
consciousness that sees "neither P nor not-P." She thought this might be the next step in
our maturation. The "neither/nor" consciousness can be difficult to bear at first because it
seems as absolute as the other stances. There can be a loss of all hope, one feels
completely cut off and nothing works. However, this reaction betrays an attachment to
the fourth alternative as a "position" that is affirmed, whereas Nagarjuna's point was that
none of the four should be affirmed. Once all four, including the last, are seen as resting
on an illusory dichotomy (that of P and not-P) then one may freely embrace what is
without a need to either affirm or deny anything.

Kaisa next talked about "formless" spiritual practices, such as the "wholly uncontrived
mind" in Dzogchen, or the "no-mind" or "natural mind" in Zen. In the very traditions that
recognize the formless, there is much "form" in their practices, but the form may have a
different meaning altogether than being a "means" to some "end." A case in point is the
Zen practice at Mt. Baldy Zen Center with which Kaisa is familiar. The form in that
practice is tough and uncompromising. Every movement is formalized -- the position of
eyes and hands, sitting, walking all have to be done according to a prescribed form. One
is not even allowed to sniffle or wipe one's nose. There is no room whatsoever for making
decisions or acting on preferences -- thus no room for the operation of the ego. Yet ego
comes up all the time -- when one makes a mistake with the form, which is inevitable, or
when emotions come up. Authority issues also get dredged up.

Kaisa used her experiences with the Mt. Baldy practice to illustrate the shifts in
consciousness that occur as one continues the practice. These shifts can be described in
terms of the Nagarjunian dialectic. The novice practitioner's attitude is typically an
ambitious one -- and a pragmatic one-- in which she wants to do the form perfectly and
get the most out of this challenging practice -- thus affirming "P." But it is impossible to
do the form even half-way right, let alone perfectly, and so the novice sets herself up to
fail. In her disappointment and frustration, she then rejects "P" and affirms "not-P" -- any
practice except the rigidly regimented Mt. Baldy practice works! Sitting with this kind of
attitude plus the aches and pains that go with it is a kind of Zen hell. If the student sticks
it out, however, things start loosening and all these knots dissolve. Suddenly one is in Zen
heaven. This shift, however, does not happen until one has surrendered the ego that tried
so hard and was so frustrated. Typically, the novice then reverts back to affirming "P" and
has several more rounds of heaven and hell, until a maturation occurs and one embraces,
with equanimity "both P and not-P." Anything that happens is "good practice." One is not
swayed by heaven and hell experiences anymore, one is mastering the practice, and
enlightenment seems just around the corner. But no sooner has one comfortably settled
into the smooth ride than one falls into another hell. This hell is of a different order than
the previous one. This is where it begins to dawn on the practitioner than the pleasure of
this ride and the very enlightenment project are still manifestations of the ego. The
disillusionment and devastation of this realization can throw the practitioner into the real
Dark Night of the Soul, the "second night" as described by St. John of the Cross. One is
left with nothing at all, not even the noble, meaningful practice that has provided one
with a sense of identity. The practitioner is likely to revert back to "both P and not-P"
before he or she can accept the nothingness of "neither P nor not-P." But when this is
finally embraced, the need to have any kind of identity may finally dissolve, and
everything is fine just the way it is. Nothing needs to be accomplished, no forms need to
be perfected. In a way, anything is now practice, but really, it makes no sense to even
describe what one does as "practice" because there is nothing that is "nonpractice." The
dichotomy between practice and something else dissolves.

Yet, at Mt. Baldy, too, there is a strong element in the practice that involves perfection of
form. This is especially true for the ordained people in their training as they rotate
through different offices, such as that of the shoji (nurturing mother) and jikijitsu (stern
father) who walks through the aisles of the zendo, menacingly carrying the kesaku (stick
ready to strike anyone who sloughs off or is sleepy. George asked about the purpose of
the kesaku from the viewpoint of practice, and Kaisa said that the meditators get an
opportunity to process fearful or angry reactions that come up when the jikijitsu walks by
with the stick, or when he stops, bows in front of them and gets ready to strike them. For
Kaisa, these had been very good opportunities, and she felt she really moved through
some stuff when she eventually experienced being hit as an act of love on the part of the
jikijitsu.

Don commented on the parallels between Kaisa's reflections and medieval Christian
mysticism, especially the tension between our inability to earn grace and yet still having
to do something. He thinks that the function of irony, humor, and artistry relates to
formlessness. They lighten up our mindset so as to allow other stuff to come in.

Kaisa noted that she found it very inspiring to see women acting as jikijitsus. She also
thinks that it is valuable to have practices that are very available and accessible but also
some, like the Mt Baldy Center, where those who are willing to go further out, even to
extremes, have the opportunity to do so.