Do we use a method to extract our attachments to the world? Then can we use the method to extract our attachments to the method? The applicability, using a system of rules (or ethics, if you like) which yields certain results, depends largely on what point one is at when one encounters the system.
If one is completely disoriented and needs some framework within which to begin to feel, then adopting an artificial system may work toward this end. However, if one already does feel which way is best for oneself, then adopting artificial systems may become part of the problem, not the solution.
If I am working on listening to that intuitive voice inside me and am troubled, thrown off, by all these busibodies who keep telling me what I need, then describing `what works best' is completely at odds with what I need to hear. While I think that systems of practice are important for those without this inner guide, demanding that these systems are The Way To Go by virtue of their perfection, whether we like it or not, is not only counter-productive to those who seek their own course, but sets up stronger attachment to them in those who are just beginning their quests.
I'd compare this rather directly with fundamentalism. It is a type of Buddhist fundamentalism to regard the `virtuous' path as sacrosanct. The way of ahimsa, vegetarianism, diligent sitting facing a wall, and pleasant interaction may be a fine ideal, and I might even agree that this way is virtuous, but aiming for it or setting it up as an ideal only makes it more un-reachable. People get so hung up on what they are doing (i.e. how they are behaving) that they forget who they are (Buddha-nature) and why they are practicing (ostensibly to become `perfect', whatever this means).
This may come as a shock, but the Way may not include mimicking the `virtuous'. It may involve finding one's path through the dark corners of those behaviors and experiences which are considered NONvirtuous, perhaps in order to become truly aware of what it is we have to choose from. Focussing on the goal may detract from our focus on the present.
In the present we may have an extreme need to be cantakerous, to be self-destructive, to be belligerent, to eat meat (Buddha forfend!) and generally to not conform to what is held out as `The Way of the Virtuous'. Restricting one's activities and expressions to those which are seen as `best' may actually prevent them from arising naturally within us.
It is one thing to say ``Meditation is great and when I do it I find I have less of a desire to be self-destructive.'' and quite another to say ``Meditation is the best way to lose those behaviors we know to be self-destructive.'' In the first, one speaks from one's own experience and refrains from making generalizations about specific behaviors (`discerning' them, if you like). In the latter, one evaluates and criticizes in such a general fashion that we are told the speaker knows something about us; that we ought be listening to them instead of our `Buddha-voice' (if you will forgive this expression).
My intent both in supporting the `Way of the Laze' and in firmly rebutting all others who represent the extreme of tradition is simply to leave room for spontaneity. I don't get the impression that, in the highly structured, disciplined Zen monasteries or temples, one is initially taught the value of uncontrolled activity.
In Taoism we find such a value in its constant focus and interest in nature (which Zen notes but seems not to place as its centerpiece) and in unrestricted vitality.
I hope that this work goes some distance in explaining more precisely (and thus less accurately) what the Way of the Laze is.
For those who need this spelled out more precisely:
Nature and artificial systems are interesting to contrast. Just what makes a system `artificial'? What is the difference between an `inner voice' and an `outer' one? Where does Nature stop and the artificial begin? When do systems become useless and therefore no longer worth our time? Where do `we' leave off and the systems begin? Are we artificial?