Buddhists seek the path – which is sometimes hidden, sometimes light. Ultimately one has to be a lamp unto oneself – but there are great teachers who shine a pure light. John ‘Daido’ Loori was one of those.
He made me aware that contradictions, uncertainties and trade-offs provide a nexus for much of human experience – but that a good heart is everything. As Buddhism simultaneously teaches: ‘we are nothing special’, though ‘it is no small thing to be born human’.
Sometimes the path can seem narrow and distant, lost in the mountain mist, surrounded by deep pitfalls. But once attained, even for a short spell, it can roll forward like a broad road appearing to stretch ever onwards, putting your feet on solid ground. With your feet on the ground you can be authentic, and as you move forward there is presence and a sense of living in the moment.
I wrote this personal remembrance of Daido for the NZ Zen magazine Manawa:
“As someone who has not been very active recently with the NZ sangha, I feel a bit of a fraud in putting forward some comments on Daido. However, the plea for contributions has overcome my reticence:
He taught me the value of 'compassionate indifference' - perhaps compassionate objectivity or clarity of action are other ways of expressing what I am trying to say.
I had been hooked on the idea that gurus and roshis were inevitably saintly. Clearly, pure in mind and big of heart, they were beyond the norm, and capable of superhuman concern for everyone and everything.
This gave me, as a mere mortal, a good excuse to pretend to be a disciple of the sacred rather than to facing up to dealing with the messy real world and messy real people (where everything in the sacred we inevitably profane – and everything in the real world is sacred).
Daido had a unique ability though to cut through this kind of sophistry.
I once made the mistake at an audience with him of responding to his inquiry about my practice by blurting out that I was getting married. 'Good luck', he observed, and the audience was over.
On another occasion, I confided my concern about the difficulties that sometimes arise in making ethical decisions that bear both on one's one emotional health and the expectations and wellbeing of others.
Sensing my real anxiety, he recounted a story about his personal experience in the Korean War. He had been on sentry duty at a camp that was a possible target of infiltration by North Korean and Chinese troops. Peering across the perimeter of the camp into the night, he heard a sound that could have heralded a hostile raid.
On the other hand, it could have been the half-mad. poverty-stricken old man who came when the camp was quiet to sift through the rubbish.
A shot at the noise might save his comrades from being annihilated if there were indeed intruders - but if he was wrong, the old man would die needlessly.
He didn't shoot and it turned out to be the old man - no one was harmed.
But, as Daido remarked: 'I could not have been held guilty if I had fired at the shadow. I just did my best to make the right decision - that was all I could have done - and after all, I have to bear the knowledge that I might have endangered my colleagues in arms.
If you weigh all the evidence and take decisions with a good heart, you should stand firm and not look back'.
My third anecdote is about attending one of his wonderful public talks at the Downstage Theatre, Wellington. He electrified the audience and everyone who attended was deeply touched. However, I found him outside after the talk shaking and drawing heavily on a cigarette.
He wasn't a saint – just an exceptionally decent and highly committed human being.
With my love and deep respect
Keith Johnson”
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