“If you don’t know what you can’t do,” says Fred after hearing the tale of the warrior, “then you’re likelier to succeed. For a different perspective, I phone my friend Fred. And also, I believe, because he’d like to hit me. ‘What’s the sound of one hand clapping? What about one hand clapping you in the head? What was your face before your grandparents were born? And if I punched it - would it hurt?’” Gregor asks these questions with no answers because he’s trying to break me out of the cage of my rational mind. Or this: I say, ‘Don’t confuse the map with the road’ and then I point to the moon and slap you in the head with my begging bowl.” “Why do all your koans involve physical abuse?” “That’s how you achieve enlightenment. This is a koan: you ask, ‘Why’s the cat in the yard, master?’ And then I take off my bamboo sandal and slap you in the head. “But not without wisdom.” “Also, I don’t know who sold you that warrior story,” he says. “An inability to see how terrible and weak you are is a key component of success.” “That’s cynical,” I say. “I’ve often observed that successful people exude a certain stupidity - in that they never seem to consider the likelihood of failure,” he says. “Do you think it speaks to the confidence one needs when attempting something that appears futile?” I ask. “Indeed not,” the warrior replies, and then opens his hand to reveal a coin that has heads on both sides. “No one can change the hand of destiny,” the general says. Afterwards, one of the warrior’s generals approaches him. Seeing this, his men get so charged up that they rush into battle and win easily. “If the coin I toss reads ‘heads,’ we’ll win.” After the toss, the coin faces heads. “Destiny will decide our fate,” he tells his frightened soldiers. But I’m curious to get your take.” I relate to him the tale of a great warrior whose men are about to do battle with a much larger army. “Here’s a koan I take to be about the seed of hope that exists in even the most hopeless situations. “I have a glancing familiarity with the way of no way,” he replies. The answers pour in: “I stood on a corner for three hours begging for money to buy her roses.” “I ate a hot pepper the size of my fist.” “I got married.” “I disowned my family.” “I joined a jazz orchestra.” “I drove all night to tell him it was over but instead, we talked until sunrise and have now been together for 20 years.” 11:45 a.m. This week’s Wiretap is themed around the idea of “hopeless hopes.” We reach out to our listeners on Facebook, asking them: “What’s the most hopeless thing you did in the name of love?” 11:30 a.m. Postmedia may earn an affiliate commission from purchases made through links on this page. Reviews and recommendations are unbiased and products are independently selected.
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