The Ethical Slut goes in search of a Zen teacher

I had an email exchange with a well-regarded senior Zen teacher from the same lineage as I practice in. Our conversation quickly veered off into a dead end, and I was left wondering what I’d said wrong. I am going to talk about private communication, so I will not name names, but I will flesh out the full context of our exchange. I was not teacher-shopping. I simply asked a question. 

Roshi X asked me whom I practiced with. My answer included some of the most senior teachers in his school and some well-known people in another lineage. I’ve been practicing Zen since 1988, and for most of that time, I have talked with a teacher both on retreats and at regular intervals. I’ve made the formal request to train with several different teachers, but it was always serial monogamy, never two at once. Four of my teachers are dead, two died while I was working with them; one sent me to his senior student and then died. One died after I began koan work. We parted on very friendly terms, but I think she was happy to be rid of me--another tale.

Rigid Roshi came down on me like a ton of bricks. After questioning the credentials of several of the teachers I mentioned, he asked how I could expect to make any real progress unless I found my master, stuck it out, drilled down, and got to the heart of the matter? I may be generalizing a bit, but that was the tone. I was looking for a place to do retreats near where I live, but I quickly decided that it would not be with Rigid Roshi. 

Yesterday a Zen friend asked me why we need teachers anyway? A good question. It is, of course, pretty standard practice in Zen to seek out a teacher at some point. I’ve heard the tired old saying that when you’re ready, the teacher will come to you. I like the mystical lyricism of the sentiment. It even has a touch of magic, but there’s definitely a lot more involved. Usually something happened on the cushion that made you want to go deeper, some experience caught you off guard and merited further exploration, perhaps you just wanted someone to talk to as you venture into unfamiliar territory, or maybe you got lucky and met someone you clicked with, a true dharma friend. I can locate some or all of those motivations in my own search for teachers at various times. For the most part, I’ve always had a teacher over the nearly 50 years I’ve practiced. I do better when I have one. I’m more focused, more happy. I actually encountered Buddhism when I met someone whom I could really call a Buddhist. I’d read a few things, and then I set out to meet a teacher. Although I didn’t ever formally become his student, I visited this very experienced meditation practitioner many times over the years, listening to him, asking him questions, participating in his practice and observing how he behaved. So I’m prejudiced. I’ve had several connections with other men and women who were solid practitioners. I've been lucky. They were very decent human beings. There was a connection. It can go deep. And for the record, I was never emotionally, sexually, or financially abused.

But to get back to Rigid Roshi’s criticism. Why just one? Where does that lead? What kind of relationship is required? What are the boundaries? What happens if it becomes a tired, old, stale relationship like a dead marriage, or what, and this is not unknown, if it becomes abusive? What is the value? What if when you haven’t found true love, you play the field and sleep around? Like many Westerners, I’ve sampled from various traditions. I’ve spent time in at least two Tibetan traditions, or at least spent untold hours studying, going to classes, even seeking refuge and receiving empowerments. I’ve done vipassana retreats and read their literature. I’ve worked with four Soto teachers, done many sesshins, lived in practice centers. I’ve done koan practice with at least 6 authorized teachers. I’m a total slut. I began my checkered Buddhist practice in 1973. With several extended hiatuss for psychological work and a painful exploration of the world of drugs, I’m coming up on 50 years of practice. Do I still work with a teacher? Yes. Does it take time to develop a fruitful collaboration with him or her? Obviously. Do I have boundaries? You betcha. Do I recommend it? The jury’s out. But I do know this: in the West, we do not have a solid tradition of established Buddhist practices rooted in our culture. As you walk down the street, the Methodist Church is right next to Saint Catherine’s parish, but the Rinzai temple is not to be found. The Tibetan lama has just opened his center in an old fraternity house, but he's very busy, way too busy to give you much individual attention. Of course, you’re going to look around for a little love and affection. We’re humans. 

Which brings me back to my original question: How does an ethical slut find a teacher and actually develop a good relationship?

I will be clear about what I want and what I’m willing to give or give up. You have to be clear too.

• Sure, it can get down and dirty. That’s the point. 
• We’re equals in the relationship. There's a lot I don't know. If you have the answer to a question I’m looking for, I will be grateful if you share it. But that’s it. I am assuming that it comes with no strings attached. If I see telltale signs that you are going to demand something that I’m unwilling to give, it’s time to say goodbye.
• I don’t do well with either domination or subservience.
• I do not do homophobia or sexism.
• I don’t pay for sex. I have, but it was over quickly and, in retrospect, not worth it.
• The understanding is that there will be mutual respect, and nothing lasts forever.

So, no thanks, Rigid Roshi, I will not be coming around. I don’t even know you, and you dropped a load of garbage on me. How can I expect to be treated as a unique human? You do not know something I don’t. And if you are in the business of offering some service to humankind for the benefit of others and a taste of freedom, I can recommend a few practitioners with a little more savoir-faire who can coach you in some interpersonal skills.