Beyond an ecology of the symptom

Nan-in, a Japanese master of the Meiji era, received a visit from a university professor who had come to him to enquire about Zen. Nan-in served tea. He filled his guest's cup and then continued to pour. The professor watched his tea overflowing until he could contain himself no longer. ‘The cup's full to the brim’, he exclaimed, ‘it can't take any more!’ ‘Like this cup’, replied Nan-in, ‘you're full to overflowing with your opinions and conjectures. How can I explain Zen to you unless you empty your cup?’

We treat the inner dimension of our experience like the professor in the parable. We believe that we know, that we already possess the required wisdom, that we are all experts on ourselves and have little left to learn. Introspection, we assume, requires no learning, and the expression of intimate feelings we leave to the poets, particularly now with the increasingly grave external problems competing for our attention. In recent years, the issue of nature has prominently captured the attention of the media and of the man in the street. In the form of the conservation and protection of our natural resources and the surrounding ecosystem, it has already established itself as the stock-in-trade of the political market and of the market tout court.