In Chan Buddhism, people sometimes talk about there not being any distinction between 'you', 'I' and 'they'. Master Sheng Yen refers to "you", "I" and "they" as terms of reference that arise when people have "attachments, discriminations and vexations" (2014, p.227). I think that in daily life, people are bound to use labels to describe themselves and others, even if it is just a simple pronoun. There is no getting around that, especially where we need to refer to each other as names or delegate specific responsibilities. How could one assign appropriate tasks and roles to people if they don't differentiate between qualities or characteristics of one person or another? The convention of naming has a value, somewhat, as long as we don't cling to that value we temporarily assign.
In a conversation I had today with a participant in meditation, we described how the anxiety of having a role at work can sometimes lead to clinging to something fixed and unchanging such as a job title. We both reflected that having this static job title is almost like a social 'self'. It provides a sense of security and order in a stressful work situation that is often unpredictable. Though I may have a great sense of camaraderie with co-workers in an office, having no responsibilities assigned to me can be a daunting, chaotic experience. I knew a colleague who once described the feeling of being given a management position where there was simply no structure to speak of: no other duties assigned, no supporting roles, and no 'scaffolding' to tell her the role expected of her. No doubt, this person felt stressed in her new position. Eventually, she ended up going back to a previous position which was much more routine and familiar, even though it lacked the 'status' of a managerial position.
I don't think that Buddhism is saying one should give up all labels, titles, or designations. To do so would be to risk going to a state of childhood, in a way. While this state may be useful in pursuing artistic forms, I have to wonder what life would be like without the sense of naming. I think the clue is that Chan always operates in the lived practical world. For example, we can have titles, roles and responsibilities, yet still know that these 'names' we give ourselves (or others) are always subject to change. The job title through which I entered an organization is even bound to change as technologies and capabilities change, as well as requirements. It would be incorrect if I tried to compare my present job requirements with that of ten or fifteen years previously. But all these labels are happening in mind. I think it's notable that even the impression I have about a certain job title will be quite different from someone else's. All we can ever do is approximate the reality to which a name or title refers, because each person has different associations and impressions arising from that name.
On the other hand, if I become too attached to names, what happens then? What I imagine is the anxiety of trying to cling to forms that are always changing. As the practitioner had put it tonight, it's a little bit like trying very hard to find that small thread of something that is going to last. Ordinary people like myself need those reassurances that there is something there to say that I exist: a name card, a reflection of myself in some form of contact or conversation.. But through practice, one can learn not to lean on titles for comfort, but to widen one's tolerance for discomfort when roles and names shift over time.
Sheng Yen (2014), Chan and Enlightenment. Taipei: Dharma Drum Publishing
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