The Zen of Throwing it Away

by Ishwar Harris

Ishwar Harris, Synod Professor of Religious Studies, spent much of 2001 living and studying in Kyoto, Japan. He lived among Buddhist monks, studied calligraphy and flower arranging, and interviewed at length a Zen master, Roshi Keido Fukushima. His experiences resulted in his book, The Laughing Buddha of Tofukuji (World Wisdom, 2004). The following is an excerpt from the chapter, “Hey, Throw it Away.”

His 2001 sabbatical to Japan was one of many trips Harris has taken to that country. In 1961 Harris traveled there as a college exchange student from his native India. In 1972 he met Fukushima when the two were housemates and graduate students at Claremont College in California. Fukushima’s commitment to Zen Buddhism fascinated Harris. The two stayed in touch, and Harris made his first visit to the Tofukuji monastery in 1998.

In his twenty-four years at the monastery, Fukushima has mentored more than one hundred Zen monks. Harris notes that Fukushima is a “master koan trainer whose deep, penetrating insight has awakened in his disciples an awareness of Zen.” And as one of the few Japanese Zen masters who speaks English, Fukushima “sees himself as a harbinger of international Zen,” Harris says. “He is a bridge-builder who wants to integrate the best of Western values with those of the East.” Yet he worries about the dilution of Zen as it reaches America. “He is greatly concerned that the appeal to Western audiences produces ‘weak Zen,’ which he says is detrimental to spiritual growth.”

A bridge-builder himself, Harris now adds Buddhism to the list of Eastern religions he has studied, including Hinduism and Islam, and his expertise on Indian culture, civilization, Gandhian thought, and the Sarvodaya movement. — John Finn

Behind the door in my office is a long scroll with Keido Fukushima’s calligraphy. It reads (in Chinese characters), “Hey! Throw it away!” It is there as a constant reminder of my “attachments.”

When I asked Keido why he had chosen this theme as a topic of his calligraphy, he said that he was inspired by the famous Zen master, Joshu. The Roshi had studied Joshu at Otani University and was fond of quoting from him. He told of a famous incident in which a disciple of Joshu tells him that he had taken off all of his illusions, now what should he do? Joshu responds, “Throw it away.” At once the student retorts, “I already told you that I have no illusions.” Joshu, in his Zen mind, responds, “Okay, keep it.” And the disciple is enlightened, because he had the insight to recognize that his master was not attached to his own answer.

Zen focuses on two types of attachments — conscious and unconscious. It is easy to recognize conscious attachments but very difficult to be cognizant of the unconscious ones. People may think that they should be happy because they are detached from many material things, but they remain unhappy. They are unconsciously attached to many things, including the desire for detachment.

Even the monks are faced with this danger. That is why the winter sesshin (usually in December) is critical in Zen training. The Roshi remarks: “During the winter sesshin, which is so tough and abnormal, I can tell whether or not the monks have penetrated their unconscious minds. Usually during the koan study in sesshin, I can tell whether a monk has experienced his first satori. Those who break through have a unique experience and can truly ‘throw it away.’”

When I mention that Zen and psychoanalysis seem similar, the Roshi points out one major difference. “Through psychoanalysis, what is restored as a healthy self is an ego-laden self. This is not the case in Zen. Detachment comes through the experience of ego-lessness. However, a ‘restored self’ can work to obtain egoless self.”

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