Red Pine’s Translations of Masters Bodhidharma & Stonehouse

Some of my friends know that I’ve been reading a lot about Buddhism and trying to meditate* daily. There is a whole universe of texts and practices out there, of course, and I have just begun to navigate around a few of the edges. For someone like me, who has had a life-long beef with the Christian God and with monotheism in general, Buddhism (at least in some of its aspects) presents an attractive non-theistic alternative to the alienated materialism sponsored by my culture’s  dominant scientism. When I get interested in a subject, I buy books and I already have a short shelf of books about Buddhism, along with some key Buddhist texts. I’ll probably write something about some of those in the future, but for the moment I just want to make note of a couple of translations by the American scholar Red Pine.

Bodhidharma was a fourth century Indian and is said to have brought Buddhism to China, though in fact we know there were monks in China by the first century of the current era. He is also said to have cut off his eyelids so he would not fall asleep while meditating–where his eyelids fell, tea bushes grew, the stimulant of choice for monks ever since. Bodhidharma meditated for nine years in a cave, staring at the back wall. Stonehouse [Ch'ing-hung] was an 11th century Chinese Zen master, abbot, and sometime hermit. What I like about both of these old Zen coots is their anti-dogmatic, pluralistic, down-to-earth approach to enlightenment. Since I don’t read Chinese, I am dependent on translators: these translations by Red Pine produce a tone that sounds authentic to my ear and a clarity of meaning that makes these texts–so distant in time and culture–useful to both readers who have an academic interest in them and to those who are in one way or another seeking enlightenment, though that term seems far too grand for the sort of thing I’m attempting when I sit down on the cushion to meditate.

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*The teacher Jon Kabat-Zinn suggests that when one begins to meditate one not tell anyone “for five or ten years,” an injunction I am clearly breaking here, but only briefly and in passing.

Car Slob

I am a car slob. I have a nice new car, but I let it fill up with junk. I’m pretty tidy in general, but the car is a mess. When I drove old junkers it never seemed like a big deal, but with the new Honda, I thought I might change my ways. Alas, no.

Big Snow

Winter is trying to catch up after its late start. We got a foot of snow overnight. I’m going to spend the day, or at least the morning, curled up with a virtual stack of student essays that need grading before the Sunday deadline. Hanoi seems very far away at the moment.

Crazy

Well, the full craziness of taking a two-week trip to Vietnam over Christmas break has now sunk in, at least partly. It will fully sink in, I suppose, next week when I am in the think of grading final exams and essays. I wouldn’t have chosen to make a trip like this at this time, but I really could not turn down the invitation from the Writer’s Association. And it will be good to meet others interested in Vietnamese literature in translation — there will be writers and scholars from Japan and China as well as the US. I’m also looking forward to some real down-home Vietnamese feasts — when I’ve been out with folks from the Association previously, they took me to some of the best places in Hanoi, often around corners and down alleys where I never would have found them. So, I’m feeling like a very lucky man, but also anticipating being exhausted when I return to my classes, which will have begun without me! Thanks to the internet and helpful colleagues, I’ll be able to kick my Understanding Vietnam class off with films and an online chat.