There is a collection of talks by Kobun Chino Roshi on the Heart Sutra. You can find that collection here. The collection has a talk by Kobun on Karma, which opens with the following:
The past can never be the same as the present, but in karma consciousness our mind always works, “That is how I was, this is how I’m supposed to be, how I will be.” That is how our mind consciousness goes, supporting our “self.”
When the mind follows a karmic way of thinking—what Kobun calls “karma consciousness”—it imposes connections, and sometimes even patterns, between the events that collectively constitute a significant part of our lives. The general form is: Because that was like that, now this is like this. For example: Because I spoke unkindly to so-and-so yesterday, another so-and-so speaks unkindly to me today. “What goes around, comes around,” as we sometimes say. Or, “You get back what you put out into the universe.” Putting out positive energy brings positive returns, most of the time or eventually. Similarly, putting out negative energy brings negative returns. This is not an uncommon way of interpreting our lives.
Actually, the general form imposed should read: Because that was like that, now this is like this—necessarily. The connection seen between two events is not a chance connection or something that merely increases the probability of a certain future outcome. Rather, it is judged as a causally determining connection; the current event, whatever it is, must happen and could not not-happen because of the prior event. This is why sometimes “karma” is understood (and incorrectly) as interchangeable with “fate.” “I had to meet with these circumstances because of my actions last week,” we hear sometimes. But “karma” and “fate” are not the same. Moreover, the necessary connection between a particular past event and my current circumstances is not as simple as suggested by the karmic way of thinking.
Still, we do think this way—at least some of the time. We think this way even when we understand intellectually the teachings that invite questions and encourage investigation about what feels unquestioningly true. Why?
Kobun’s offering is: to support our “self.” What does that mean?
A lot is made in the teachings about the ego, the constructed self, or the small self. It has many names. My Guiding Teacher, Meidō Barbara Anderson Roshi, sometimes calls it the “Post-It Note self.” This is an amusing and welcome image. It captures well the way in which we build an identity from an assortment of nouns and adjectives that fit, all too conveniently, on Post-It Notes. Post-It Notes that we can stick to our exterior for others to read—“bookstore employee,” “Zen student,” “cat Dad,” “alcoholic”—notes that assist others with sorting us into neat little boxes. Such notes are easily available and interchangeable. We can add new notes to our collection with minimal effort. We can selectively choose which notes to wear on a particular occasion, crafting our appearance to suit the expectations and preferences that dominate the moment. If all of this were not enough to show the insubstantiality of the Post-It Note self, I will also point out that it takes little more than a moderately-strong breeze to blow all of your carefully-chosen notes away.
The interesting thing about a breeze is that you do not see it until you feel it. That is our life, one breeze after another. We see none of them in advance; despite our best scientific efforts, I cannot tell you precisely when and in which direction will blow any given breeze. It just happens, all of a sudden. Then it is here and here I am, right in the middle of it! And away flies that collection of labels that I believed were the whole of who and what I am. That is disruptive, it is terrifying, it is unsettling, and it happens again, and again, and again every single day.
We do not like this very much. What, then, do we do? We tell stories, stories about how because that was like that, now this is like this. Stories that say, “Because I acted in such-and-such a way towards so-and-so, I am met with a similar action in my direction—necessarily.” “If only I did not forget to do the dishes last night, then my partner would ... .” You can adjust or fill in the details. We impose connections between singular events in an attempt to find meaning, reveal a supposed underlying order, or otherwise create structure, all in the pursuit of predictability and stability. All for a feeling of sure security. As Kobun says, all to support our “self.”
We would rather not feel in our muscles, bones, and sinews the illusory nature of the self. We would prefer that our Post-It Notes stay put, are swapped or otherwise changed only when we say, or are perhaps blown off only occasionally. For this reason, we suffer—said better, we are continually dissatisfied with life as it is. But we do not have to suffer so much. Sometimes Zen practice is described as “settling down where there is no settling down.” I might say, in the light of the above, that Zen practice is allowing our Post-It Notes to be carried away by a breeze, reconnecting us with the freshness of life.