Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid (50 page)

Such strange loops always confuse the daylights out of me. They're eerie, in a way.

Tortoise: I find them quite appealing.

Achilles: You would, of course-they're just down your alley. But me, sometimes I like to retreat from all this analytic thought any meditate a little, as an antidote. It clears my mind of all those conf loops and incredible complexities which we were hearing about tonight.

Tortoise: Fancy that. I wouldn't have guessed that you were a meditator Achilles: Did I never tell you that I am studying Zen Buddhism?

Tortoise: Heavens, how did you come upon that?

Achilles: I have always had a yen for the yin and yang, you know – the whole Oriental mysticism trip, with the I Ching, gurus, and whatnot. So one day I'm thinking to myself, "Why not Zen too?" And that's how it all began.

Tortoise: Oh, splendid. Then perhaps I can finally become enlightened. Achilles: Whoa, now. Enlightenment is not the first step on the road to Zen; if anything, it'. the last one! Enlightenment is not for novices like you, Mr. T!

Tortoise: I see we have had a misunderstanding. By "enlightenment", I hardly meant something so weighty as is meant in Zen. All I meant is that I can perhaps become enlightened as to what Zen is all about. Achilles: For Pete's sake, why didn't you say so? Well, I'd be only too happy to tell you what I know of Zen. Perhaps you might even be tempted to become a student of it, like me.

Tortoise: Well, nothing's impossible.

Achilles: You could study with me under my master, Okanisama-the seventh patriarch.

Tortoise: Now what in the world does that mean?

Achilles: You have to know the history of Zen to understand that.

Tortoise: Would you tell me a little of the history of Zen, then?

Achilles: An excellent idea. Zen is a kind of Buddhism which was founded by a monk named Bodhidharma, who left India and went to China around the sixth century.

Bodhidharma was the first patriarch. The sixth one was Eno. (I've finally got it straight now!)

Tortoise: The sixth patriarch was Zeno, eh? I find it strange that he, of all people, would get mixed up in this business.

Achilles: I daresay you underestimate the value of Zen. Listen just a little more, and maybe you'll come to appreciate it. As I was saying, about five hundred years later, Zen was brought to Japan, and it took hold very well there. Since that time it has been one of the principal religions in Japan.

Tortoise: Who is this Okanisama, the "seventh patriarch"?

Achilles: He is my master, and his teachings descend directly from those of the sixth patriarch. He has taught me that reality is one, immutable, and unchanging; all plurality, change, and motion are mere illusions of the senses.

Tortoise: Sure enough, that's Zeno, a mile away. But how ever did he come to be tangled up in Zen? Poor fellow!

Achilles: Whaaat? I wouldn't put it that way. If ANYONE is tangled up, it's ... But that's another matter. Anyway, I don't know the answer to your question. Instead, let me tell you something of the teachings of my master. I have learned that in Zen, one seeks enlightenment, or SATORI-the state of "No-mind". In this state, one does not think about the world-one just is. I have also learned that a student of Zen is not supposed to "attach" to any object or thought or person-which is to say, he must not believe in, or depend on, any absolute-not even this philosophy of nonattachment.

Tortoise: Hmm ... Now THERE'S something I could like about Achilles: I had a hunch you'd get attached to it.

Tortoise: But tell me: if Zen rejects intellectual activity, does it make sense to intellectualize about Zen, to study it rigorously?

Achilles: That matter has troubled me quite a bit. But I think I have finally worked out an answer. It seems to me that you may begin approaching Zen through any path you know-even if it is completely antithetical to Zen. As you approach it, you gradually learn to stray from that path. The more you stray from the path, the closer you get to Zen.

Tortoise: Oh, it all begins to sound so clear now.

Achilles: My favorite path to Zen is through the short, fascinating and weird Zen parables called "koans".

Tortoise: What is a koan?

Achilles: A koan is a story about Zen masters and their student times it is like a riddle; other times like a fable; and other ti nothing you've ever heard before.

Tortoise: Sounds rather intriguing. Would you say that to read al koans is to practice Zen?

Achilles: I doubt it. However, in my opinion, a delight in koans million times closer to real Zen than reading volume after about Zen, written in heavy philosophical jargon.

Tortoise: I would like to hear a koan or two.

Achilles: And I would like to tell you one-or a few. Perhaps begin with the most famous one of all. Many centuries ago, the Zen master named Joshu, who lived to be 119

years old.

Tortoise: A mere youngster!

Achilles: By your standards, yes. Now one day while Joshu and monk were standing together in the monastery, a dog wand The monk asked Joshu, "Does a dog have Buddha-nature,

Tortoise: Whatever that is. So tell me-what did Joshu reply?

Achilles: 'MU'.

Tortoise: 'MU? What is this 'MU'? What about the dog? What about Buddha-nature?

What's the answer?

Achilles: Oh, but 'MU' is Joshu's answer. By saying 'MU', Joshu let the other monk know that only by not asking such questions can one know the answer to them.

Tortoise: Joshu "unasked" the question.

Achilles: Exactly!

Tortoise: 'MU' sounds like a handy thing to have around. I'd like unask a question or two, sometimes. I guess I'm beginning to get the hang of Zen. Do you know any other koans, Achilles? I would like to hear some more.

Achilles: My pleasure. I can tell you a pair of koans which go together Only ...

Tortoise: What's the matter?

Achilles: Well, there is one problem. Although both are widely told koans, my master has cautioned me that only one of them is genuine. And what is more, he does not know which one is genuine, and which one is a fraud.

Tortoise: Crazy! Why don't you tell them both to me and we can speculate to our hearts'

content!

Achilles: All right. One of the alleged koans goes like this:

A monk asked Baso: "What is Buddha?"

Baso said: "This mind is Buddha."

Tortoise: Hmm ... "This mind is Buddha"? Sometimes I don't quite understand what these Zen people are getting at. Achilles: You might prefer the other alleged koan then.

Tortoise: How does it run? Achilles: Like this:

A monk asked Baso: "What is Buddha?"

Baso said: "This mind is not Buddha."

Tortoise: My, my! If my shell isn't green and not green! I like that! Achilles: Now, Mr. T-you're not supposed to just "like" koans.

Tortoise: Very well, then-I don't like it.

Achilles: That's better. Now as I was saying, my master believes only one of the two is genuine.

Tortoise: I can't imagine what led him to such a belief. But anyway, I suppose it's all academic, since there's no way to know if a koan is genuine or phony.

Achilles: Oh, but there you are mistaken. My master has shown us how to do it.

Tortoise: Is that so? A decision procedure for genuineness of koans? I should very much like to hear about THAT.

Achilles: It is a fairly complex ritual, involving two stages. In the first stage, you must TRANSLATE the koan in question into a piece of string, folded all around in three dimensions.

Tortoise: That's a curious thing to do. And what is the second stage?

Achilles: Oh, that's easy-all you need to do is determine whether the string has Buddha-nature, or not! If it does, then the koan is genuine-if not, the koan is a fraud.

Tortoise: Hmm ... It sounds as if all you've done is transfer the need for a decision procedure to another domain. Now it's a decision procedure for Buddha-nature that you need. What next? After all, if you can't even tell whether a Do(; has Buddha-nature or not, how can you expect to do so for every possible folded string?

Achilles: Well, my master explained to me that shifting between domains can help. It's like switching your point of view. Things sometimes look complicated from one angle, but simple from another. He gave the example of an orchard, in which from one direction no order is

FIGURE 45. La Mezquita, by M. C. Escher (black and white chalk, 1936

apparent, but from special angles, beautiful regularity em, You've reordered the same information by changing your way of looking at it.

Tortoise: I see. So perhaps the genuineness of a koan is concealed how very deeply inside it, but if you translate it into a string it ma in some way to float to the surface?

Achilles: That's what my master has discovered.

Tortoise: Then I would very much like to learn about the techniqu first, tell me: how can you turn a koan (a sequence of words) folded string (a three-dimensional object)?

They are rather dif kinds of entities.

Achilles: That is one of the most mysterious things I have learned i There are two steps:

"transcription" and "translation". TRANSCF a koan involves writing it in a phonetic alphabet, which contain four geometric symbols. This phonetic rendition of the koan is called the MESSENGER.

Tortoise: What do the geometric symbols look like?

Achilles: They are made of hexagons and pentagons. Here is what they

look like (
picks up a nearby napkin, and draws for the Tortoise these four figures
): Tortoise: They are mysterious-looking.

Achilles: Only to the uninitiated. Now once you have made the messenger, you rub your hands in some ribo, and

Tortoise: Some ribo? Is that a kind of ritual anointment?

Achilles: Not exactly. It is a special sticky preparation which makes the string hold its shape, when folded up. Tortoise: What is it made of?

Achilles: I don't know, exactly. But it feels sort of gluey, and it works exceedingly well.

Anyway, once you have some ribo on your hands, you can TRANSLATE the sequence of symbols in the messenger into certain kinds of folds in the string. It's as simple as that. Tortoise: Hold on! Not so fast! How do you do that?

Achilles: You begin with the string entirely straight. Then you go to one end and start making folds of various types, according to the geometric symbols in the messenger.

Tortoise: So each of those geometric symbols stands for a different way to curl the string up?

Achilles: Not in isolation. You take them three at a time, instead of one at a time. You begin at one end of the string, and one end of the messenger. What to do with the first inch of the string is determined by the first three geometric symbols. The next three symbols tell you how to fold the second inch of string. And so you inch your way along the string and simultaneously along the messenger, folding each little segment of string until you have exhausted the messenger. If you have properly applied some ribo, the string will keep its folded shape, and what you thereby produce is the translation of the koan into a string.

Tortoise: The procedure has a certain elegance to it. You must get some wild-looking strings that way.

Achilles: That's for sure. The longer koans translate into quite bizarre shapes.

Tortoise: I can imagine. But in order to carry out the translation of the messenger into the string, you need to know what kind of fold each triplet of geometric symbols in the messenger stands for. How do you know this? Do you have a dictionary?

Achilles: Yes-there is a venerated book which lists the "Geometric Code". If you don't have a copy of this book, of course, you can't translate a koan into a string.