Serenity Through Zen

A Simple Introduction to Simplicity

We are often philosophers without knowing it. Much of the way we view the world is instilled in us during childhood, before we fully develop the ability to navigate the world rationally. But those behaviours and attitudes that we learn in our early years can often be traced back to a culture and the underlying philosophies that animate it.

If any philosophy can be said to animate the Western world, it is Stoicism. The foundations of Christian theology absorbed much from the Greek Stoics, containing more of Marcus Aurelius than Moses. Many of the successes of European Empires can be traced back to this Stoic attitude.

But many of the failures of Europe and Europeans are also Stoic in origin. We often take for granted the elevation of reason to a supreme status within the mind, seeing emotions as an inner chaos to be mastered rather than an essential part of the whole being. A Stoic attitude is surely valuable for statesmen and emperors, empowering them to change the world according to the whim of their rational faculties – but is it really the right approach for modern living?

There are other forms of time-tested wisdom than our Greek inheritance. The Japanese art of Zen has much to offer which complements and enhances a fundamentally Stoic, European caste of mind. Zen teaches us not the primacy of reason and the mastery of emotions, but the experience of inner mind and outer world as a single, harmonious whole.

In this article, we look at some of the important basic practices of Zen, and how Zen philosophy can enhance one’s outlook and help to cultivate a serene life. We focus on practice and perspective; this is not a historical guide to Zen Buddhism.

A Zen Master called Ryokan lived a life of simplicity in a little hut at the foot of a mountain.

One evening, while he was away, a thief crept into the hut only to find there was nothing in it to steal. Ryokan returned and found him.

“You’ve come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.”

The thief was bewildered, but he took the clothes and ran away.

Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon.

“Poor fellow,” he mused, “I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”

— Zen parable

Responses to Stoicism

Much of what is called ‘the culture war’ is a revolution against Stoicism (and against Western culture in general). Just as an over-repressed desire can manifest itself in extreme outbursts, modern society manifests its rejection of Western philosophy through undisciplined and chaotic emotionality, sometimes taking the form of literal public tantrums.

Of course, Stoicism does not advocate repression of emotions per se. Yet its practical implementation as modern rationalism has often resulted in emotional repression, legal repression, and social censure. This ‘vulgar Stoicism’ can lead us to ignore sense stimuli in pursuit of success as defined by our rational objectives, to the point where it even damages our health. The primacy of objective-oriented reason encourages the treatment of human relationships as tools, or means to an end, rather than as ends in themselves. And where multiple people’s reasons clash, the result is often a dominance competition which leads to the conquest of one ego by the other, rather than a harmonious unification of ideas.

Many of us will have been taught at some point that repression is simply bad, because it subjects our psychology to cognitive and emotional strain. The converse argument, that controlling one’s thoughts and actions leads to a habit of excellent behaviour, is rarely aired. Both of these points are essentially true, and so a balance must be struck between them. In practice, history continually lurches between periods of puritanical repression and periods of Bacchanal hedonism.

To escape from the deleterious swing of this cultural pendulum, we might consider a new philosophy. Zen cannot be found anywhere on the line from extreme repression to zero repression. It can usually be found meditating.

Zen Meditation

How much time do you waste, each day?

When we are stressed and busy, it’s not uncommon to waste lots of time fidgeting between different tasks and priorities, or procrastinating ourselves away from important jobs. The fact is that nobody is 100% ‘productive’ with their time. Few people are even 50% productive.

Instead of burning up these scattered hours in the doomed quest for maximum productivity, why not learn to take a true break. Just five minutes of meditation, before breakfast, during lunch break, or in the evening, can completely refresh one’s mental balance – enabling you to conduct your daily life with more patience and serenity.

In other words, make room for emptiness; for deliberately doing nothing, and thinking of nothing. This is usually achieved by focusing on one’s posture and breathing: sitting up straight, and slowing down to about three or four breaths per minute.

Why not pause this article, and try that now? Try to empty your mind of thoughts, and meditate for 25 slow breaths.

If you prefer, you can also follow the instructions in the audio track.

Personally, I often meditate briefly before writing articles. I experienced a prolonged sense of calm while meditating just now, as well as greater awareness of the background processes of my body, the house, and the nature surrounding it. After five minutes, I feel refreshed and awake. With a little practice, five minutes of meditation can be as good for clearing the mind as a restful night’s sleep.

When we are short on time, this scarcity extends to our heart as well. We automatically say ‘I’m busy – I don’t have time.’ When we feel this way, our mind becomes even more hectic.

It’s not that we are busy because there isn’t enough time.

We are busy because there is no room in our heart.

— Shunmyō Masuno

The Difficulty of Teaching Zen

It may seem unusual to include directed meditation in an article. However, the practice and experience of meditation is so central to Zen that I believe the article would be incomplete without it. Zen is not something that can be explained purely in words, like Stoicism. As the renowned Buddhist monk Shunmyō Masuno explains:

Zen teaching is represented by a series of four phrases, which mean essentially: ‘Spiritual awakening is transmitted outside of the sutras, and cannot be experienced through words of letters; Zen points directly to the human mind, and enables you to perceive your true nature and attain Enlightenment.’

Rather than be fixated on the written or spoken word, we should encounter our essential selves as they exist in the here and now.

 — Shunmyō Masuno

This insight should provide some understanding of why Zen cannot taught from books, and requires one-to-one instruction by a Zen practitioner. It might also provide a key as to why kōans are important.

Zen kōans, popular among the Rinzai school, often take the form of a riddle. Kōans might seem ridiculous to the uninitiated, for there are paradoxical questions which seem surreal, and answers that are logically absurd. Many kōans are designed to frustrate reasoned thinking, in order to facilitate an experience of awakening or enlightenment. This merely underlines the fact that Zen is not some verbal discipline that’s subject to analytical logic, but instead a way of living that’s subject to practice and experience.

When both hands are clapped, a sound is produced; listen to the sound of one hand clapping.

— Zen kōan

This can seem abstruse, nonsensical, or deliberately obscure. The role of a Zen teacher is often to introduce teachings like the above at the right moment to facilitate the student’s progression, when the context of their interaction opens the way.

Kōans also take the form of short parables and proverbs, which can be more accessible. Take the following kōan, which sums up the difference in attitude between academics and Zen:

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

— Zen kōan

The theme of emptiness appears over and over again in Zen philosophy, from the clear mind, to the minimalistic rejection of worldly possessions.

Zen Minimalism

Perhaps the most visible aesthetic of Zen is Japanese minimalism, or wabi-sabi. The broad allure of this aesthetic is testified by its use in vulgar marketing schemes. Numerous items and gadgets have been branded ‘Zen’ in an appeal to this aesthetic reputation — to my knowledge, not one gadget has been branded ‘Stoic’.

Recall the previous kōan, with the overflowing cup. Zen asks us to look at life from this perspective, not as a series of things to be learned, but as things to be unlearned. The objective of Zen is not some vast material success, but the serenity that comes from allowing room for emptiness.

The principle of emptiness extends beyond a simple, austere living with few possessions. More importantly, emptiness extends to the mind, advocating a minimalist approach to attachments, cares, and worries. Consider the following parable about the Zen master Tanzan.

Tanzan and Ekido were once traveling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was still falling.

Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.

“Come on, girl” said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.

Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer could restrain himself. “We monks don’t go near women,” he told Tanzan, “especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?”

“I left the girl there,” said Tanzan. “Are you still carrying her?”

— Zen kōan

In Japanese and Chinese, emptiness is expressed by a single character: Mu (無). The concept may also be conveyed by the circle symbol called ensō, which symbolises enlightenment. One Zen practice is to draw the ensō regularly, as a form of training.

A monk asked Jōshuu in all earnestness, ‘Does a dog have Buddha nature or not?’

Jōshuu said ‘Mu!’ (無)

For several years, I have thought it perplexing that there are only two routine answers to a question: yes, and no. Consider the loaded questions that journalists ask politicians on a daily basis, where any answer is incriminating (‘Have you stopped beating your wife yet?’ is the classic example). When there is a flaw in the question like this, the answer should be ‘null’ or ‘logical exception’ or even ‘syntax error’. But we are stuck with ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘maybe’. There is no one-word answer that says ‘the question is wrong’. Arguably, mu could fill this role.

But Kōans are not objective-based problems, or riddles, where one seeks the correct answer. There is no single, specific, concrete meaning of mu in the famous parable above. Through meditating on the mu kōan over a long period of time, and discussing one’s thoughts with a teacher, a Zen disciple comes closer to an understanding of emptiness.

When you face another swordsman, if you think there is an opportunity to strike your opponent’s shoulder, then your mind will be preoccupied by your opponent’s shoulder.

If you think there is an opportunity to strike his arm, then your mind will be preoccupied by his arm.

If you think you can win against him, then your mind will be preoccupied by winning.

Do not allow your mind to wander to or settle upon any of these places. Even as you focus your energy on a single point, keep your mind free and open. This is the secret of the sword.

— Takuan

Connection With Nature

In Zen,  great emphasis is placed on the turning of the natural world, the passing of seasons, and the natural harmonies of flora and fauna in the present. Zen monasteries begin zazen meditation just before dawn, and at dusk, when the change in the natural world from night to day can be experienced most fully.

In Japanese, emotions are often conveyed through reference to seasonal metaphors. Rather than ‘I feel happy’ or ‘I feel sad’ – both of which are rather blunt, and much more common in modern Japanese – a more refined expression of feeling would refer to the seasons. Indeed, Japanese poems (haiku) are required to contain a seasonal reference; many haiku use this to illustrate an inner emotional experience that’s mirrored in the tangible reality of the outside world.

故郷は雲の先也秋の暮

Furusato wa

Kumo no saki nari

Aki no kure

My hometown lies just beyond the clouds

Autumn evening

— Issa

Zen practice is an augmentation to our latent Stoicism, and when practiced properly, elevates a rational and ordered mind. Zen’s focus on emptiness provides an excellent foil to the more positivist schools of knowledge that pervade our society, and focuses our attention on what should be unlearned rather than merely learned.

To crudely summarise the difference between the two philosophies: if you want to do something, think Stoic; if you want to be something, think Zen.

Zen minimalism teaches us to simplify our lives, being frugal with our possessions, cares, and worries. Daily five-minute meditation is a form of mental hygiene, allowing you to refresh your mind and body before moving to a new task. By allowing some ordered emptiness into our chaotic lives, we can create our own serenity.

Further Reading

• Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (Robert Pirsig)

• ZEN: The Art of Simple Living (Shunmyō Masuno)

• A Very Short Introduction to Buddhism (Daniel Keown)

• The Penguin Book of Japanese Verse (Anthony Thwaite and Geoffrey Bownas)

• Thinking, Fast and Slow (Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky)