Leonard
Cohen, The Baleful Buddhist
Gerry Kopelow
Some
time ago I found a book about how to be happy. At four hundred
plus pages long, it was advertised as an in-depth review of
the mainline world religions, but it also examined an eclectic
assortment of spiritual systems from various cultures and
historical periods. Written by a well accredited theological scholar,
the book claimed to be a thorough compendium of techniques
for developing happiness in this life. But after fifteen or
so minutes of study, I realized that I had not encountered
any reference to Buddhism, indeed, the subject was not even
listed in the table of contents. The index included only one
page-reference, which turned out to be a single sentence in
which the author wrote, "I am not going to discuss Buddhism
in this book, because it is so sad."
Perhaps
some non-practitioners view Buddhism as sad because it seems
to be preoccupied with suffering. In fact the first statement
uttered by the Buddha after his awakening was translated from
the original texts as `Suffering is real'. All
subsequent teachings flow from this first statement:The Buddha
spent his post-enlightenment years disseminating techniques aimed
at eradicating suffering. For those preoccupied with avoiding
rather than eliminating suffering, the word itself conjures up memories
of past suffering or fears of future suffering. So Buddhism itself
might seem unpleasant, and, as the author of the book mentioned
above said, even sad.
Leonard
Cohen, originally an angst-ridden Jew from Montreal, is perceived
by some to be a world-class purveyor of sad. Usually clad all in
black, a costume sonically mirrored by his darkly sombre singing
voice, he and his music are not usually described
as cheerful. I was present at one of Cohen's early concerts
in the late sixties: Sitting in a chair in the auditorium of creaky old
Taché Hall at the University of Manitoba, accompanying himself on
an acoustic guitar, he played and sang quietly for
about seventy five serious-looking people. Back then
I, too, was an angst-ridden Jew (from the north end of Winnipeg)
and I was as serious as the rest of the audience. Happily (or sadly), I
was profoundly engaged by his poetic but doleful view of the
world.
Flash
forward thirty-some years, and the picture has changed dramatically.
I am no longer angst-ridden, in fact I am pretty happy most of the
time. This I attribute to three decades of working with Buddhist
meditation practices, which I now teach
here in Winnipeg. During this period I followed Leonard Cohen’s
musical career, and recently I was delighted to hear that
after several years without any new offerings, he has finally released another
CD, entitled `Ten New Songs.’ I don’t recall ever seeing
a music review on the Faith Page of this newspaper, but this interesting
collection calls for a few comments.
Cohen
wasn’t producing much music during the past decade because
he, too, was busy with Buddhist meditation practices. Naturally
he chose a particularly austere version of Zen Buddhism, which he
pursued under the tutelage of a Japanese master in a monastery near
San Francisco. Because he uses a familiar English vocabulary, without
technical references to Buddhist philosophy, the lyrics of his new
songs read, as before, like richly textured poetry. The tonal modalities
and the tempos are deep and slow, and the introspective and metaphysical
reflections alluded to in the words might, once again, make the
listener feel that Cohen is still focussed on the sad, the poignant,
and the deeply confusing aspects of life. And so he is, but in a
way quite different than before.
Buddhism
is not really preoccupied with suffering. What Buddha actually
said was, `Dukha is real’. In the Pali language which the
Buddha spoke, `Du’ means bad, or unwholesome, and `kha’ means
formations, or states. These formations are mental,
physical, or emotional in nature. The unwholesomeness refers
to all kinds of discomforts, irritations, frustrations, confusions, anxieties,
and pains, large and small. So Dukha is a broad word that encompasses
a wide range of conditions and perceptions. The goal of Buddhist
practise is to replace this Dukha, these
unwholesome formations, with Sukha, or wholesome formations.
A close listen to `Ten New Songs’ indicates that Cohen
has achieved some insight into this process.
It
would spoil the fun of the dedicated listener if I was to clinically
unpack the beautifully compact language that Cohen has set to music.
But let me take one song, my favourite from the CD, and point to
a couple of the allusions that echo a Buddhist world-view I share:
The
song is called `Here It Is’. It is built around heavy, dukha-laden
images balanced by evocations of what seems to be their emotional
opposites - “Here is your cart, your cardboard and piss, and
here is your love for all of this / Here is your
wine, and your drunken fall, and here is your love, your love for
it all / Here is your sickness, your bed and your pan, and here
is your love for the woman, the man.” All of this sounds serious,
and it points to the unsparingly realistic world view
of the practitioner: Yes, the world is full of all kinds of grief,
but having taken a good look, we see that embedded in the unwholesome
is the possibility, in fact the promise, of the wholesome.
As Cohen says in the chorus that is repeated four times, “May
everyone live, and may everyone die, hello my love, and my love,
Goodbye.” We Buddhists see this life as short, and subject
to many discomforts, but we also see that developing a clear view
of reality points us directly to love.
Buddhism
is not really a religion, but rather an esoteric technology, a technology
concerned with the transformation of consciousness. One’s
personality or judgment is not subsumed or diminished by undertaking
this work, but inevitably, incrementally, illuminated. So
Leonard Cohen still sounds like Leonard Cohen, but now he is less
occupied with confusion and more interested in insight, less concerned
with bitterness and pain, and more interested in compassion. Like
Shakespeare, whose penetrating revelations of the realities of life
were encompassed by a vast affection for humanity, Cohen has turned from
cool irony to the warmth of kindness, from stylish despair
to realistic optimism.
