17 Apr '05 08:09>1 edit
The Japanese word "zen" is what happened to the Chinese word "ch'an" when the Japanese tried to pronounce it. The Chinese word "ch'an" is what happened to the Sanskrit word "dhyan" when the Chinese tried to pronounce it. The Sanskrit word "dhyan" means "meditation".
Zen is the lineage of Buddhist tradition that is regarded by many as the purist embodiment of the Buddha's original teachings of 2,500 years ago.
During the Buddha's long teaching ministry of about 40 years, he once gave a sermon on the essence of his teaching. In this sermon, he simply sat in front of his disciples and held out a flower in the palm of his hand...and said nothing.
The disciples were baffled. The Buddha simply continued sitting in silence, holding out this flower. Then suddenly, one disciple by the name of Maha Kasyapa, burst out laughing.
"Very good," said the Buddha. "You have understood today's sermon."
And Maha Kasyapa became regarded as the first Zen master. About a thousand years after this event, the Indian Buddhist monk Bodhidharma transmitted Zen from India to China, when he founded the Shaolin monastery. About 600 years after that, Zen made it to Japan, where it developed into its most sophisticated forms.
When Bodhidharma first arrived in China, he was escorted to the court of Emperor Wu, who considered himself an enthusiastic Buddhist patron but who had never met a real master. The Emperor was looking forward to the meeting. But when Bodhidharma arrived, things did not go smoothly. Wu wanted to know what "karmic merit" he'd attained by buidling some Budhist temples in China. "No merit at all" was Bodhidharma's reply. Confused, Emperor Wu then asked him what the deepest spiritual teaching was. "Empty mind" came the Zen master's reply. Now getting irritated, Wu said to him, "who are you?" Bodhidharma answered, "I don't know." And with that the Emperor, now fed up, banished the Zen master from his court.
Emperor Wu could not understand that Bodhidharma was giving him the highest teachings. The essence of Zen is that we live in a kind of dream world created by the ego. This dream world is based on the idea that our ego is real, and we need to "attain things" -- be that karmic merit, a 2000 rating in chess, the kingdom of God, or a million bucks -- in order to validate who we think we are. According to the Buddha, this endless drive to self-validate and "prove" our existence to others is the root of all suffering.
Zen meditation is the art and practice of being present, in the moment. When we're truly present, our state of mind and action have a clarity and precision to them. What stops us from being present is confused, deluded thinking.
To meditate is not to force the mind to be quiet, as is sometimes mistakenly assumed. That is simply repression. But nor is it to indulge the mind, which is simply daydreaming. To meditate properly is to simply learn to OBSERVE the mind, impartially, without judging it. That is, to simply take note of one's thoughts, and let them move on, with grasping or clinging to them.
As we practice this, sooner or later we become aware of the "field" or "context" in which all thoughts are arising. That field or context is pure awareness (or consciousness) itself. Not awareness "of" anything; simply awareness itself.
To become aquainted with this awareness is to become aquainted with its qualities -- most immediately noticeable of which is spaciousness and natural wisdom. This is a wisdom that transcends deductive thought, and sees directly into things (insight). Sometimes this "seeing into things" deepens suddenly and dramatically, a breakthrough known in Zen as "satori" or "sudden awakening". It is an insight that understands reality without having to "figure it out". This is why Maha Kasyapa was able to understand Buddha's sermon on the flower even though Buddha said nothing. And this is why Bodhidharma answered "I don't know" in reply to the Emperor's question "who are you?" His "I don't know" was the same in spirit as Socrates famous line, "the more I know, the more I realize I know nothing at all."
This "not knowing" is not the same thing as simple ignorance. It's rather a recognition of the limitations of the conceptual mind. As long as we conceive of something, there remains separation between subject and object. To relax the conceptualization process is to approach things with an open, fresh mind, and to be able to see deeply into reality. For example, when standing in front of a tree. we can think about the tree in all sorts of ways -- about its biology, its nomenclature, even its mystical attributes. Or, we can simply be present with the tree, by observing our mind without repressing it our indulging it -- simply watching our thoughts, and then paying full attention to the tree. If we are only 30% present with the tree, it is dull in our perceptual field. But if we are 100% present, not lost in conceptualizing, then the tree becomes 100% real in our perceptual field. We begin to see into its deeper essence.
That's the simple basis of Zen. Simple in principle, but both extremely difficult to realize (because of how difficult the mind can be to tame), and vastly meaningful in implication. To actually train the mind to quiet down whenever we want is to open a door to a deeper dimension. Few people experience this because few people break out of their identification with the mind and its constant conceptualizing.
Zen is the lineage of Buddhist tradition that is regarded by many as the purist embodiment of the Buddha's original teachings of 2,500 years ago.
During the Buddha's long teaching ministry of about 40 years, he once gave a sermon on the essence of his teaching. In this sermon, he simply sat in front of his disciples and held out a flower in the palm of his hand...and said nothing.
The disciples were baffled. The Buddha simply continued sitting in silence, holding out this flower. Then suddenly, one disciple by the name of Maha Kasyapa, burst out laughing.
"Very good," said the Buddha. "You have understood today's sermon."
And Maha Kasyapa became regarded as the first Zen master. About a thousand years after this event, the Indian Buddhist monk Bodhidharma transmitted Zen from India to China, when he founded the Shaolin monastery. About 600 years after that, Zen made it to Japan, where it developed into its most sophisticated forms.
When Bodhidharma first arrived in China, he was escorted to the court of Emperor Wu, who considered himself an enthusiastic Buddhist patron but who had never met a real master. The Emperor was looking forward to the meeting. But when Bodhidharma arrived, things did not go smoothly. Wu wanted to know what "karmic merit" he'd attained by buidling some Budhist temples in China. "No merit at all" was Bodhidharma's reply. Confused, Emperor Wu then asked him what the deepest spiritual teaching was. "Empty mind" came the Zen master's reply. Now getting irritated, Wu said to him, "who are you?" Bodhidharma answered, "I don't know." And with that the Emperor, now fed up, banished the Zen master from his court.
Emperor Wu could not understand that Bodhidharma was giving him the highest teachings. The essence of Zen is that we live in a kind of dream world created by the ego. This dream world is based on the idea that our ego is real, and we need to "attain things" -- be that karmic merit, a 2000 rating in chess, the kingdom of God, or a million bucks -- in order to validate who we think we are. According to the Buddha, this endless drive to self-validate and "prove" our existence to others is the root of all suffering.
Zen meditation is the art and practice of being present, in the moment. When we're truly present, our state of mind and action have a clarity and precision to them. What stops us from being present is confused, deluded thinking.
To meditate is not to force the mind to be quiet, as is sometimes mistakenly assumed. That is simply repression. But nor is it to indulge the mind, which is simply daydreaming. To meditate properly is to simply learn to OBSERVE the mind, impartially, without judging it. That is, to simply take note of one's thoughts, and let them move on, with grasping or clinging to them.
As we practice this, sooner or later we become aware of the "field" or "context" in which all thoughts are arising. That field or context is pure awareness (or consciousness) itself. Not awareness "of" anything; simply awareness itself.
To become aquainted with this awareness is to become aquainted with its qualities -- most immediately noticeable of which is spaciousness and natural wisdom. This is a wisdom that transcends deductive thought, and sees directly into things (insight). Sometimes this "seeing into things" deepens suddenly and dramatically, a breakthrough known in Zen as "satori" or "sudden awakening". It is an insight that understands reality without having to "figure it out". This is why Maha Kasyapa was able to understand Buddha's sermon on the flower even though Buddha said nothing. And this is why Bodhidharma answered "I don't know" in reply to the Emperor's question "who are you?" His "I don't know" was the same in spirit as Socrates famous line, "the more I know, the more I realize I know nothing at all."
This "not knowing" is not the same thing as simple ignorance. It's rather a recognition of the limitations of the conceptual mind. As long as we conceive of something, there remains separation between subject and object. To relax the conceptualization process is to approach things with an open, fresh mind, and to be able to see deeply into reality. For example, when standing in front of a tree. we can think about the tree in all sorts of ways -- about its biology, its nomenclature, even its mystical attributes. Or, we can simply be present with the tree, by observing our mind without repressing it our indulging it -- simply watching our thoughts, and then paying full attention to the tree. If we are only 30% present with the tree, it is dull in our perceptual field. But if we are 100% present, not lost in conceptualizing, then the tree becomes 100% real in our perceptual field. We begin to see into its deeper essence.
That's the simple basis of Zen. Simple in principle, but both extremely difficult to realize (because of how difficult the mind can be to tame), and vastly meaningful in implication. To actually train the mind to quiet down whenever we want is to open a door to a deeper dimension. Few people experience this because few people break out of their identification with the mind and its constant conceptualizing.