Dispatch #6: A Rattlesnake Scares the "Me" Out of Me!

Non-thinking Saves the Day!

We met in a windswept field alongside a creek. The tall, reed-like grass shimmered like bleached wheat in the late afternoon sun. I was strolling along, kind of proud of myself that I had just finished hiking one of the steepest trails near the monastery. My mind was relaxed and probably meandering a bit as I made my way through the waist-high grass looking for the trodden path.

Then everything happened in rapid succession, or maybe all-at-once.

Rattle-Hiss-Coil-Hiss-Rattle.

Thump-thump. Jump. Thump-thump.

The thump-thump was my heart pounding like a banshee warning me of my imminent demise. The jump was this body miraculously heaving itself out of harm’s way. And as the body leapt to safety, an image flashed through my mind of a snake with its fangs protruding like mini-spikes of death. This intensified the fear.

Had the pit viper actually launched its scaly, muscular body at me and sunk its fangs into my calf, I might not be here writing this dispatch. I’m not saying the venom would’ve killed me, but I’d surely still be recovering from such an attack.

Within a few seconds of landing on the grass far enough away from the rattle-hiss-coil, a spontaneous body-scan arose: heart still thump-thump-thumping, rapid breathing, wobbly legs, and an overall adrenaline high that lasered my attention on the surroundings. Most especially on the tall grass that I was still standing in.

As I made my way toward the edge of the creek, a whole lotta thinking percolated through my mind. Mostly fear of meeting another rattlesnake hiding in the tall grass and how could I avoid this and let’s go the long way around to the creek’s edge, even if it means I might have to trample on poison oak to gain access to the creek. I know that rattlesnakes are not water snakes and I saw the clear, flowing water as a sanctuary.

When I finally made it across the creek and back to the monastery grounds, I was no longer trembling. I ate my picnic lunch in the lower garden and marveled at how purple the Mexican sages is. And marveled at just being.

Much later in the evening, this encounter with the rattlesnake reminded me of some of the ancient enlightenment stories of Zen monks who suddenly “woke up” when their teacher unexpectedly shouted at them or hit them with a stick. One of the first koans I ever heard was that of Xiangyan Zhixian (d. 898), who was a Tang Dynasty Chan Master from Shandong Province. He was an avid scholar of the sutras and although he studied under Master Guishan, he did not attain enlightenment early in his monastic career.

One day Guishan gave him the koan: “What was your original face before you were born?”

Xiangyan Zhixian scoured his books for answers, but could not find any. Disappointed, he burned his tomes and dedicated his practice to answering that question. He eventually left Guishan and went traveling, built a grass hut, and planted bamboo to keep him company. One day while he was sweeping a path, a piece of tile flew up and hit against a stalk of bamboo. Upon hearing the sound, he suddenly had a great awakening. 

Then, he composed a verse to express his understanding:

One hit, and I lost what I know;
I won’t be training myself again.
Action and repose given over to the old path;
I won’t be sinking into worry.

No traces wherever I go;
Deportment beyond sound and sight.
Masters of the way in all directions
Will call this the highest faculty.

After this unexpected event, Xiangyan Zhixian no longer needed to train himself by cultivating his intellect. When discursive thinking falls away, our deportment goes beyond sight and sound. In the middle of an everyday activity, Xiangyan was so thoroughly startled by a sound that arose and vanished so quickly that he was unable to name it, grasp it, and analyze it.

Essentially, there was not time for him to perceive himself as a separate entity from the sound. There was no time for him to make a “me” out of the arising sensory experience before it faded away. There’s no trace wherever he goes. We’re so often identified with the thinking mind that the space—this “no trace”—between thoughts does not register in our body-mind consciousness.

The “trunk of a banana tree” is the simile the Buddha uses to demonstrate the insubstantiality of our actions, words, and thoughts. What we perceive as a solid trunk is in fact just large banana leaves rolled up one over the other. If we sliced through this trunk, we could unfold the banana leaves and at the center is what’s at the “center” of all volitional formations: empty space. 

“A lump of foam” is the simile the Buddha uses to illustrate the insubstantial nature of physical phenomena. When this lump of foam that I call Heather stumbled upon another lump of foam that we humans label as “rattlesnake," I was so shocked-frightened that I was unable to label “rattlesnake in the grass” or even notice any thought processes.

Kyōgen yakuchiku [Zen Patriarch Xiangyan Zhixian] experiences enlightenment while sweeping] painted by Kanō Motonobu (1476–1559)

Since we human animals are very visually oriented, perhaps had I seen the rattlesnake first, formations and perceptions would have arose to string together a narrative:

Oh, hey, that’s a rattlesnake, it’s a venomous pit viper that can strike whether it’s coiled or not and since this species isn’t that aggressive, according to wikipedia, it probably won’t strike, so you could just stand here and walk away, but on second thought, you never know, so you better jump as far away as possible otherwise it might strike and you could die.

That’s a thicket of mental formations that might have resulted in my being bit. Instead, thankfully, without thinking, I immediately and effortlessly jumped away from the rattling-hissing-coiling. Although I’m using the pronoun “I,” there was definitely not a sense of me doing anything. There was just a bare perception of danger and an immediate reaction to move away from it. 

Fortunately for the rattlesnake, it can’t ruminate. After the chance meeting with me, where clearly it felt threatened as well, it probably just slithered off into the grass or maybe devoured a small rodent, and took a nap in the sun. That’s its “verse” of understanding.

Here’s my verse: 

One hiss and I lost what I know.

No more deceiving myself.

The ancient path unearthed,

shining forth beneath my feet.

Jumping like a stone woman,

landing on the wild reeds,

swaying in the wind of no-mind.

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