Why I Practice Zen
People are drawn to Zen for many reasons, but there is one reason most have in common: suffering. Many turn to Zen in the wake of a life crisis like the death of a close relation or a divorce. Some are drawn to it because they realize at a deep level that life as they are living it doesn’t work and they want to find another way.
It occurred to me a long time ago, that life seemed little more than a never-ending game of self-gratification, an exhausting pursuit of a mythical ideal of happiness to be found somewhere in the future. Meaning, contentment, well-being, and purpose were always out of reach, just past the next achievement, goal, relationship, job, or milestone. I was living the way I had been taught to live and it wasn’t working.
Finally, I was ready for a change. Zen is that change.
When I try to explain Zen to someone, I liken it to the stoic philosophy of the ancient Greeks. On a basic level, both are concerned with human flourishing and the alleviation of suffering, and they take a similar path to that goal. That path is based on the complete acceptance of one’s circumstances whatever they may be. True happiness and well-being originate not from events and conditions, but from one’s attitude toward them, as illustrated by the following quotes, one from a Greek stoic philosopher and one from a Japanese roshi:
A wise man is content with his lot, whatever it may be, without wishing for what he has not. — Aurelius
We cannot expect any greater ecstasy than right here, right now — our everyday lives. — Kōshō Uchiyama
Note: Both these quotes predate the advent of corporate capitalism, with its buy-or-die philosophy of compulsive consumerism as the path to happiness.
These quotes seem to show a great similarity between Zen and stoicism, but the similarity goes only so far. While the two disciplines rightly identify the mind as the source of human suffering, Zen goes further in investigating how the mind creates suffering and how that suffering can be alleviated. Stoicism relies mainly on rational thought to bring about a radical acceptance of things as they are. Zen, while not rejecting reason, eschews this approach in favor of a spiritual practice called zazen.
All problems are psychological, but all solutions are spiritual.― Thomas Hora, MD, founder of metapsychiatry
The Zen approach to human suffering is essentially a spiritual one. Spirituality can be a slippery topic to discuss, but there is no need to debate definitions. Through a meditative practice called zazen, we experientially discover an aspect of ourselves that in the confusion of our never-ending thoughts goes unnoticed. This dimension is referred to as universal self, big self, or true self. Living from it as opposed to living from our egoistic thoughts can enable us to experience life in a radically different way, less focused on our wants and needs, and more focused on life in general, with ourselves included as part of life. Living from the true self brings a life of “freedom and compassion,” as teacher Joko Beck put it, rather than one bound up in egocentric thinking.
Caught in the self-centered dream, only suffering.
Holding to self-centered thoughts, exactly the dream.
Each moment, life as it is, the only teacher.
Being just this moment, compassion’s way.
Be aware.
Appreciate this precious life.
Freeing ourselves from self-centered thinking, not an easy task, enables us to come down to earth, so to speak, and attend to the present moment undistracted by thoughts of past and future. This awareness of the here-and-now is the essence of so-called enlightenment, not some mystical state of blissful transcendence. It is nothing more than the present moment experienced clearly and directly.
When I was much younger, long before I had ever involved myself with Zen or any other form of Buddhism, I realized that within me was a constant source of contentment based essentially on nothing. That is, it didn’t depend on anything or anyone outside myself. Simply existing was sufficient for me to feel happy, to be glad that I was alive. But it seemed that as I became more and more involved in what we call “modern life,” with its struggles, obligations, woundings, and occasional joys, this intrinsic sense of well-being faded away. I became lost in the dream and it produced a lot of suffering.
I wonder if it is possible to rediscover through Zen practice that ephemeral happiness that I had once known. I want to see if I can recover it and deepen it so that it is part of my everyday experience more often than not. I cannot remove myself from the concerns of life and retire to a place with no distractions, worries, or responsibilities. But perhaps I can cultivate a mind that can exist within all that, that can function normally in the world and still be content. Can I escape the tyranny of my own thoughts and live from the true self?
To discover that, to develop that is why I practice Zen.
