Zen for Zen's Sake

I’ve never been one to evangelize. Even in the years when I was more devoutly Catholic (primarily around the years of my Confirmation), I never attempted to convince others out of some desire to save souls. Eclecticism always appealed to me. I’ve found the fallibility of man meant that no one can know all the answers, thus the burden of proof for religious conversion to be far too high and pointless. It wasn’t long, then, that I placed the same burden of proof on myself and came to find that I no longer believed.

This is the point in the story where one would feel great amounts of anxiety or depression over their spiritual well-being; a lingering doubt over purpose and morality that is sourced in our religion in Western society. But this did not befall me. On the contrary, I felt a sort of liberation. In having nothing to believe, I no longer had anything to defend. With nothing to defend, a weight was lifted, and I could go on my way.

Now, before I continue, let me specify. I had just used the phrase “nothing to believe.” However, this should not be so construed as to think I had become Nihilist. I did not “believe in nothing.” Rather, I found that anything that needed to be believed was not worth my time. In a way, I had envy for those who could have faith without a burden of proof. It seems to follow the “ignorance is bliss” idea, but it’s more appropriate to compare it to “curiosity killed the cat.” My undying call to discover eventually killed my faith, but not my beliefs (that is, my opinions on morality and politics). I tried to search for belief systems that articulated what I already believed, but had little success. I ultimately was unsatisfied and gave up the search.

That was until this year. I had further and further relegated the idea of subscribing to a religion (or atheism) as unnecessary. I was comfortable with the idea, further reinforcing its acceptability. But my curiosity wasn’t content. That same questioning that rationalized away my faith continued to search for replacements. The purpose wasn’t to find a religion, but just for my own knowledge. In this continuing search I found Zen (not in the way people “find Jesus”).

My only substantial understanding of Zen comes from a book by Alan Watts titled “The Way of Zen.” Zen takes its basis in Buddhism, but incorporates a Taoist flavor. It centers on the discovery of the eternal truth and the attainment of Buddha-hood. This state is one which ascends you from the cycle of life and death. Typically this is done through self-reflection and meditation to comprehend the world and attain a sense of ‘oneness.’ All attachments are lost and all distinction is lost. Any duality is just a conception of the mind and a clouding of understanding.

Where Taoism injects is actually just a continuation of this rejection of duality. The Zen master asks, “If there is no duality, then even the duality between my state now and the state of Buddha-hood is a conception.” They must be one and the same. Therefore, we are all in a state of Buddha-hood here and now, and it is a simple matter of realizing it, not attaining it. Since one can’t progress to Buddha-hood, as a consequence, the realization must come suddenly. This is the core of Zen. All the teachings, all the meditation, all the esoteric questions and arbitrary answers are to encourage this sudden realization. Any effort at this realization is self-defeating.

One of the interesting aspects of Zen involves when this non-duality or oneness is applied to time. It produces one of the more metaphysical aspects in Zen, which is that past, present, and future are but one time. There is a certain relativism embedded here, because it draws upon the relation of our senses to the concept of reality. The only reality we know is what we sense. Therefore the only past that exists is that of our memories, and the only future is that which we can conceive. Therefore the only fully real time is the present. And thus, one mustn’t live for the past or the future, but for the present. This gives a great emphasis on ‘spontaneity’ of action and purpose. Walk for walking’s sake, sit for sitting’s sake. Additionally, since our senses are the only reality, even language is relative. Specifically, they are symbols representing the thing, not the thing itself.

In reading this book, I came across a passage about an old Zen master. His monastery was so popular, he wanted to open another. When it came time to decide who should run this new monastery, he summoned his best students to test their understanding of Zen. The master placed a pitcher on the floor in front of the students and asked, “Without words, what is this?” The brightest student pondered and said, “We cannot say it is wood…” Suddenly, the cook, who had been listening in, walked over and kicked over the pitcher. The cook was subsequently named the master of the new monastery.

When I had read this passage, I literally laughed out loud, a common reaction among Zen masters to appropriate answers to their absurd questions. Perhaps this was my moment of realization, but I dare not make such an assertion. I can say, however, this was my point of conversion (if there can be such a thing). It can be difficult to explain what it feels like to be a Zen practitioner. But I can describe how I feel now that I am. My concern for proof and imbedded curiosity used to cause anxiety, as I said, when I attempted to reconcile it with Western religions. After abandoning the idea altogether, I still felt anxious over my inability to articulate my beliefs, making me continuously reach to do so. Zen finally provided a simple answer for me.

Things are what they are. There’s no complex metaphysical world to explain our place, purpose, and values. We are the world and it is we. I don’t practice Zen to achieve Nirvana, Enlightenment, or Salvation. I practice Zen for Zen’s sake