What is Zen?
"To understand it is not to understand it..."
The word Zen instantly evokes images and feelings: serenity underscored by a babbling brook and subtly Asiatic instrumental music; an eccentric and inscrutable but wise master like Kill Bill’s Pai Mei; and maybe a vibe of magnanimity and transcendence over the pettier things in life.
But what is it, really? My new podcast Koanversation will delve into aspects of Zen, but first it’s worth clarifying what Zen is and what Zen isn’t.
There’s a parallel here with quantum physics. Richard Feynman famously said: “if you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don't understand quantum mechanics.”
D.T. Suzuki’s Introduction to Zen Buddhism expresses a similar sentiment:
“How hard, then, and yet how easy it is to understand the truth of Zen! Hard because to understand it is not to understand it; easy because not to understand it is to understand it. A master declares that even Buddha [does] not understand it, where simple-minded knaves do understand it.”
And the parallel with quantum mechanics goes further. Like that branch of physics, Zen is a way of perceiving reality on a level where it doesn’t look like reality as we otherwise understand it. And they are both concerned with how observation influences the physical world. In fact, Zen is only concerned with that. It is all about the mind.
The mind is the tool we use to perceive the world. Perhaps uniquely to us humans, our mind also gives us self-awareness: the knowledge that we have a consciousness based on our brain interpreting sensory inputs.
Zen is about enabling that awareness to free itself of its own impediments.
Zen is mastery of the mind so you can have true perception.
“Beyond the Mind, there’s no Buddha”
We often turn to religion as a way of giving sense and logic to the world, and particularly to adversity. Pain and suffering feel worst if they are meaningless. But if we know there is some kind of motivation or reason for the way things are in life, it helps us give meaning to the things we endure, which in turn can bring us some peace.
Zen is not a religion, although it has its origins within Buddhism. A Buddhist monk named Bodhidharma (who was either from South India or Persia) is credited as founding the tradition when he came to China in the 5th century CE and taught an emphasis on dhyana (concentration of the mind). The Sanskrit word dhyana became Ch’an, in turn becoming Zen when it got to Japan). Bodhidharma is also said to have devised Kung Fu as a way for the Shaolin Monks to defend themselves.
Buddhism’s Four Noble Truths are a roadmap to spiritual liberation. They say that 1) suffering is inherent to life, 2) the cause of that suffering is desire that can never be truly sated, 3) you can cease your suffering by no longer fueling your cravings, and 4) the path to ceasing suffering is by focusing your life on acting wisely in several (eight) different aspects.
The goal is to free yourself from the cycle of samsara, or rebirth (literal to some, figurative to others) and attain nirvana (an afterlife or form of oneness to some, a state of mind achievable in this existence to others).
Zen is not concerned with noble truths or reincarnation, or any other concept for that matter. It is neutral about what this reality is or what, if anything, lies beyond it. Still, Zen is directed towards liberation.
What kind? The liberation of knowing your own mind and being able to see past the artificial thinking that shackles us in a state of lack and separation.
As Bodhidharma puts it in his Bloodstream Sermon (translated by Red Pine):
“The reality of your own self-nature, the absence of cause and effect, is what's meant by mind…
To find a buddha all you have to do is see your nature. Your nature is the buddha. And the buddha is the person who's free…
The truth is, there's nothing to find.”
Getting Out Of Your Own Way
In Why Buddhism is True, evolutionary psychologist Robert Wright convincingly argues that our brains have evolved not to accurately perceive reality but to survive and to propagate our genes. This means we cannot help but see everything in the world in terms of how it affects the survival and status of our sense of self.
Once you recognise this and you see how many of your emotional reactions are automatic self-preservation routines hardwired into us as biological creatures, you realise you no longer have to identify with them. Those reactions are not you, if you decline to treat them that way.
In Nothing Special: Living Zen, Zen master Charlotte Joko Beck focuses on the body-mind. She tells us that when an event or thought causes a strong negative reaction, don’t focus on what your brain is telling you the problem is. The thought is a rationalisation, a story, not a fact. Instead feel where in your body the strong visceral reaction is, and sit with that, because that is the only actual fact. Clinging to the thoughts your brain offers as its spin on the problem will only prolong the pain. And this gels with Wright’s argument that the “self” we think is in charge of our mind is really just a spokesperson for whichever part of our modular brain has wrested control in a given moment.
But what does this all mean in practice?
There are two major practices associated with Zen: zazen and koans.
Zazen (sitting)
This is a form of meditation. You sit cross-legged with good posture, close your eyes. And you focus on one of a number of things (depending on the school of Zen): your breathing, a mantra, or a koan (see below).
The object is to become fully aware of your mind. Thoughts will come, and you accept these and let them pass. With time your mind’s ability to know itself and not identify with thoughts as much becomes stronger.
Koans (cases)
These are short vignettes that were written down from the 8th century onwards. They all tend to be anecdotes of exchanges between Zen masters and students. The student asks a question and the Master’s response is always surprising, usually baffling and sometimes downright rude.
The point of these exchanges is that the master is trying to get the student to break through the confines of their ordinary cause and effect logical thinking.
If they can do that, they may start to experience…
Satori (awakening)
This is the Japanese term for a moment of revelation or surprising clarity. I hesitate to say enlightenment, because Zen regards enlightenment as a process rather than a result. But satori is an often fleeting glimpse into the profound; an epiphany-like perception where you see things that were perhaps totally mundane in an enthralling way.
And why does this matter?
All of this is geared at stripping away the arbitrary labels and judgments we put on reality. We tend to see everything in binaries: is/isn’t, good/bad, yours/mine, self/other. This is the cause of so much pain.
So if we can begin to let go of some of that where it doesn’t serve us, we can live a more harmonious life. Not a life free of difficulty or pain, but one where we don’t make it needlessly harder for ourselves.