After we talked for a while, he asked, “Have you had a death in your family?”

“No, I just left someone.”

I spoke meekly. I did not mind that he had seen me crying. I was not thinking about anything. I simply felt as though I were sleeping quietly, soothed and contented.

This comes from Yasunari Kawabata’s short story, “The Dancing Girl of Izu.” It’s kind of an odd choice, I realize, since the “someone” that this college-aged student left is a 14-year-old girl he initially mistook for several decades older. Still, this small piece is particularly evocative.

However, Buddhism is also not about what most people regard as the opposite of that. It is not about taking a hard-assed fuck authority attitude towards everything. The funny thing about all these crazy anti-authoritarian iconoclastic Zen Masters out there is that you’ll notice that they all accept the Zen tradition. As iconoclastic as they may be, they still shave their heads, wear the robes and participate in the various rituals and ceremonies associated with Zen practice. Kodo Sawaki, for one, is always held up as the ultimate rebel monk. Yet look at his picture on the top of this article. There he is with the same robes and skinhead hair-do as any other Zen monk. Why? If he was such an iconoclast why didn’t he just say “screw it!” and grow his hair long and wear bell-bottoms?

…

Every authority figure is you. Lots of people are really into the whole “all is one” thing in Buddhism. It sounds really lovey-dovey and nice. But, folks, remember that “all is one” means that you are George W. Bush. There is no difference between you at all. George’s power and authority come only from you and you alone.

- Brad Warner, the Hardcore Zen blog

In order not to leave any traces, when you do something, you should do it with your whole body and mind; you should be concentrated on what you do. You should do it completely, like a good bonfire. You should not be a smoky fire. You should burn yourself completely. If you do not burn yourself completely, a trace of yourself will be left in what you do. You will have something remaining which is not completely burned out. Zen activity is activity which is completely burned out, with nothing remaining but ashes. This is the goal of our practice. That is what Dogen meant when he said, “Ashes do not come back to firewood.” Ash is ash. Ash should be completely ash. The firewood should be firewood. When this kind of activity takes place, one activity covers everything.

- Shunryu Suzuki in Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind

The point of our practice is not to become something other than what we already are, such as a buddha or enlightened person, but to realize or become aware of the fact that we are intrinsically, originally the Way itself, free and complete. If we practice to become something else, we simply put another head on top of our own, making ourselves ghosts. One head is enough!

- from “Commentary on Fukanzazengi” by Hakuyu Taizan Maesumi in The Art of Just Sitting

As I mentioned before, I’ve started studying Zen Buddhism more seriously over the last few months. I’m very much a beginner, but in terms of religion, this is the first thing that’s felt “right” to me in quite a while. But since I’m still in the very early stages of this thing, please excuse anything that’s incorrect or off-base. I’m not representing Buddhism, just what I’ve gotten from it so far.

I saw somewhere the term “spiritual seeker” for people that are constantly looking for a religion to fit their needs. At one point, I would have labeled myself that, but then I kind of gave up on it and just looked at religion as interesting from an intellectual and historical perspective. So, I was somewhat surprised to find myself feeling differently after reading Brad Warner’s Hardcore Zen. I can’t recommend that book enough.

I think what I like about Zen, and Soto Zen in particular, is how there’s not a goal. There’s no reaching for enlightenment because, yo, enlightenment is this moment, right now. There’s no reciting of koans or trying to “think about nothing” when you sit zazen in the Shikantaza (”just sitting”) style, it’s just recognizing and reacting to thoughts as the arrive. There isn’t a goal of getting into heaven, achieving nirvana, or getting reincarnated as something/someone better. It’s not even about achieving any sort of personal benefit. Sure, there may be some, but it’s not the goal.

What’s great about the Soto Zen is the simplicity. It is what it is. It is what it isn’t. Everything is everything. Everything is nothing. And there are plenty of those weird paradoxes (that really aren’t) to consider. I also like that the compassion angle on things, right action, pretty much directs one towards a vegetarian diet. One problem with a lot of people who follow Buddhism is that they attempt to justify the eating of flesh in every way imaginable (”if it’s offered to you, you should eat it as to not offend” - come on now, how does that cultivate compassion?). The way I see it, consuming animal products has no part in the Buddhist philosophy. The Great Compassion: Buddhism and Animal Rights by Norm Phelps and Food of Bodhisattvas: Buddhist Teachings on Abstaining from Meat by Shabkar Tsogdruk Rangdrol do a good job of exploring this in more detail.

Last Saturday morning, during my trip to Portland, I went to the Portland Buddhist Priory to join them for their morning zazen session. I was a little nervous since I had never meditated with a group before and was really worried about doing it “right.” But once I met Reverend Master Meiko Jones at the door, I felt much more comfortable. She smiled and spoke quietly, listened to what I had to say, and said that even though this was a “working meditation” day for long-time students, that I was welcome to join them for the morning zazen. She told me not to worry about doing it right, gave me a few instructions about proper bowing, and set me on my way. Only one other man was there, but once I sat down, it wouldn’t really have mattered how many others were in the room. I was uncomfortable (I sat on a mat, but not the cushion because it initally felt too high — big mistake) and a little tense early on, but I relaxed significantly by the end. It was a good experience.

Do I classify myself as a Buddhist now? No. Will I ever? Not sure. Maybe I’ll always say that I “study Buddhism” but never refer to myself as a Buddhist. I don’t know yet. And what’s kind of cool is that any Buddhist worth their salt would say, “Cool.” Brad Warner says that the essence of Zen is to question everything and all authority, including Zen itself. Zen isn’t necessarily something to learn… it’s innate. It’s just a matter of realizing it, which takes time.

The most recent book to “change my life” (though that phrase bothers me because the most important changes in life tend to come gradually) has been Brad Warner’s Hardcore Zen. After having studied Buddhism informally for a number of years, this book finally crystalized my own feelings about the essence of Buddhism and its relevence to everyday life. Warner follows the Soto school of Zen, a sect started by Dogen Zenji back in the 13th century who brought Chinese Caodong Zen to Japan. What makes Soto Zen different from other schools of zen, like Rinzai, is that it doesn’t believe in “enlightenment” in the sense that most people associate with Buddhism. Rather, it says that the ultimate reality is you. It’s your life right now, at this moment. The only thing that is real is this exact moment and the best thing you can do is “right action” with regards to this very moment.

Its meditation is also different from many other forms of Buddhism in that there are no mantras involved, no focusing on koans, no trying to think of nothing (have you ever tried that?). Rather, it encourages what’s called shikantaza, which translates basically to “just sitting.” Zazen (sitting meditation) involves sitting on a cushion with your back straight, staring at a wall. And that’s it. You don’t try to block thoughts… you acknowledge them with a quiet mind and make yourself very aware that they’re there. With this comes the notion that thoughts are just thoughts, which is kind of an odd concept I’m just trying to grasp. Warner describes it well in an NPR interview he did a few years ago where he says when he gets annoyed, he can acknowledge that he’s annoyed and realize the annoyance is just another thought, which makes it easier to move past.

What’s great about Hardcore Zen is the way it minimizes the importance of ceremony and formalism… it’s not trying to sell dogma, it’s not trying to push a series of self-help books, it’s just one guy describing how he went from being a bassist in punk bands to working in Japan on monster movies to being a zen master. He’s not afraid to call people out for claiming they’re enlightened when they’re just using it as a marketing gimmick (he calls them “pussies”) and at the same time can take the most subtle corners of Zen philosophy and make it seem like common sense. Which it is.

I’ve started sitting zazen occasionally, though not as frequently as I’d like to. But one thing I noticed is that I tense up my muscles a lot, in particular my shoulders. So every time I was sitting and I felt myself tense, I’d let my shoulders drop and breath slightly deeper. Sometimes it would happen again 30 seconds later, so I’d do the same thing. After only a few sitting sessions, I found it easier to just sit and not tense up when thoughts would come to me. A cool side effect is that In Real Life, I notice that in a lot of situations where I’d be tense with my shoulders drawn up, I’m actually more relaxed and my shoulders and neck are in fully relaxed mode. Good stuff.

So, I guess one could say that Hardcore Zen has changed my life, though it’s only changed ever so slightly. I do sense, though, these are the types of changes that actually mean something and I look forward to learning more and focusing more on the right action for the moment.

In lieu of a thorough introductory post, I’m going to point to my about page. My next two (repurposed) posts will serve as an introduction of sorts as well.