Zen begins at the point where there is nothing further to seek, nothing to be gained. Alan Watts We could see the human condition as quenching a thirst with salt water, done repeatedly. We pursue goals that generally require us to pursue other goals.
We satisfy our desires, which only leads to the same ones returning, often even more potent. We’re looking for a way out, a definitive end of our thirst, an ultimate contentment. Unfortunately, no path seems to lead us there.
It’s as if we’re stuck in an endless cycle of dissatisfaction. But there’s hope. Thousands of years ago, Buddha offered humanity a way out.
Thus, Buddhism’s philosophical tradition and religion came into existence, and it spread and developed into several schools. One of these schools is Zen Buddhism, prevalent in East Asia. We’re about to explore the core of Zen, several key concepts, and how Zen is practiced.
Hopefully, at the end of this video, you’ll have an idea of what Zen Buddhism is, how it could help quench your thirst by letting go of desires, and how Zen differs from other Buddhist schools, both in theory and practice. But before you let go of desire, if you desire to support this channel, please consider joining my Patreon, where you’ll find ad-free videos, have a say in future topics, and even receive free merchandise. You can also follow me on social media for updates, quotes, and more.
Thank you. And I hope you’ll enjoy this video. Originating in India, Buddhism began spreading through China in the first century.
Eventually, Chinese Chan Buddhism began to develop in the 6th century, becoming a distinct school of Mahayana Buddhism. It wasn’t until the 12th century that Chan Buddhism was first introduced in Japan by a Japanese Buddhist priest named Eisai, although his attempt to establish a lineage failed. After him, other Chan disciples succeeded in establishing Chan Buddhism in Japan, also known as Zen.
Zen is the Japanese pronunciation of the same character, Chan, in Chinese. We’ll use the term Zen from now on, as it’s the Japanese tradition on which this video essay is based. A unique feature of Zen Buddhism is that it’s heavily influenced by Taoism, a Chinese philosophy and religion, and, to a lesser degree, Confucianism, a Chinese system of thought and behavior.
Taoist works like Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching and the concept of wu wei are deeply ingrained in Zen. Zen grew in Japan during the Kamakura period (1185–1333), becoming part of Japanese culture through practices like the tea ceremony, calligraphy, and martial arts. Today, Zen is practiced worldwide, along with other traditions such as Theravada and Vipassana, which are both very popular in the West.
But compared to these traditions, Zen has quite a different outlook on spiritual awakening and enlightenment and how it’s attained. Within Buddhism, one finds a distinction between two ways of enlightenment: the gradual and the sudden. The Theravada school, which is currently quite popular in the West, emphasizes that enlightenment (or nibbana) occurs gradually through lots of practice and following the Eightfold Path.
In Zen, however, enlightenment is often described as arising from a sudden experience, known as ‘satori. ’ It doesn’t arrive slowly and over time; it’s immediate, without warning. So, imagine a thick layer of clouds between yourself and a sunny blue sky.
In the gradual approach, the clouds dissolve one by one. In the sudden approach, however, the clouds are blown away instantly; it’s an immediate event, a sudden and profound shift in experience. In the Zen tradition, this moment of insight is called ‘satori.
’ Satori is where the illusion of a separate, fixed self and reality is briefly lifted. It offers a direct realization of the true nature of existence—an insight beyond mere intellect, so profound that the illusory sense of separation collapses, and it collapses suddenly, like an explosion or shattering of a mirror. Satori is letting go.
It’s the sudden dissolvement of all illusion. The water becomes crystal clear. The Matrix is unveiled, so to speak, and one realizes how things truly are.
Satori is also the starting point of the road to full liberation: enlightenment. The truth is clear. And what’s been seen cannot be unseen.
Now, it’s time to get oneself out of this mess once and for all. But where to begin? The starting place of Zen is the present moment, as it’s the present where everything happens.
There’s no time like now. It’s when we experience, feel, think, and—simply—exist. In this regard, Zen aligns itself with Stoicism, Taoism, and other schools of Buddhism.
Just read Marcus Aurelius’ meditations, and you’ll notice he values the present moment, seeing it as a gift and the only thing we have. Or listen to some Dhamma talks by the Theravada monks, and you’ll notice that clinging to past events or worrying about the future are activities to let go of. They obscure the present, where both practice and experience are done.
It’s also the basis for “wu-wei,” a Taoist concept closely related to Zen. From the view of Zen Buddhism, reality unfolds itself in the present. But even though the present is always there, we generally cloud it by all kinds of thinking.
Our minds create this barrier between the world and an illusory, separated “self. ” That same mind also turns out to be a master at analyzing, overthinking, planning, and fantasizing: qualities that have a time and place and can be valued as tools for survival and progress, but also get us into trouble, as they cut us off from the direct experience of our surroundings. All these fantasies, concepts, judgments, et cetera, lead to hesitation and overthinking.
We’re acting from a place of ego, in which past and future abound. The present, and with that, I mean the actual, clear, undistorted present, therefore, becomes small. But the past and future become big, along with the veil of concepts and ideas we project onto the present.
Alan Watts, scholar of Zen and author of The Way of Zen, describes it as follows: When life is empty, with respect to the past, and aimless, with respect to the future, the vacuum is filled by the present—normally reduced to a hairline, a split second in which there is no time for anything to happen. End quote. Zen aims to expand the present moment, which means letting go of what’s obscuring it; in other words, clearing the sky of the clouds between ourselves and the atmosphere.
A traditional Japanese way of expanding the present is a tea ceremony. During chanoyu or ‘The Way of Tea,’ the participants are entirely devoted to the ceremony, honoring the present moment and seeing it as unique, once in a lifetime, never to be experienced again. The realization that every moment is unique, the Japanese have a term for it: ‘ichigo ichie,’ which I made a separate video about a while ago.
In the present, you can experience satori, the a-ha moment, the letting go of the ego’s illusions. The big question is: how exactly does one attain this sudden awakening? Let’s first discuss what not to do, as it’s the most apparent trap people tumble into: seeking enlightenment and grasping for it.
In Zen, Buddhahood isn’t attained. It’s already there. We should only burst through the illusions created by our minds to get there.
One illusion the mind creates is a false sense of self—the idea that there’s a separate, isolated ‘me. ’ I quote: It is fundamental to every school of Buddhism that there is no ego, no enduring entity which is the constant subject of our changing experiences. For the ego exists in an abstract sense alone, being an abstraction from memory, somewhat like the illusory circle of fire made by a whirling torch.
End quote. This illusion becomes problematic if one desires enlightenment. The ego desires it but cannot attain it, as enlightenment entails the dissolution of the ego.
However, the ego cannot think beyond itself; it cannot create a concept of enlightenment because it’s beyond thought. It’s the very thing that stands in the way of enlightenment and must be destroyed, but it can only imagine itself as a part of it. It’s like a bully looking forward to a party he isn’t invited to.
The party is a party because he’s not there. His absence is why the party is fun. As Dharma master Lok To put it: True Nature is Mind; the Mind is Buddha; the Buddha is Dharma.
One should not use the Mind to seek Mind, the Buddha to seek Buddha, nor the Dharma to seek Dharma. Therefore, Dharma students should suddenly realize no-mind and suddenly attain stillness and silence. End quote.
The mind cannot grasp the mind. It’s like a sword trying to cut itself, teeth trying to bite themselves. The mind seeking to be enlightened is just another construct of the mind, the very thing standing in the way of enlightenment.
Thus, from the viewpoint of Zen, when you’re seeking Buddhahood, you lose it. The grasping of the mind to become enlightened is precisely why one isn’t. I quote: If you seek to understand Dharma better, don’t grasp the Sangha.
You should realize that there is nothing to seek. Also, do not grasp the Buddha or the Dharma, for again, there is nothing at all to seek. We’ve now arrived at the ambiguity of Zen.
As we’ve been delving into concepts of Zen, such as the illusion of the self, the nature of the present, and the vanity of seeking and grasping, putting this all into practice means we should forget about this stuff; throw everything I said in the garbage. It’s like we’ve explored how a television works, how the circuits operate, how things are connected, but now we’re about to watch it. These are two entirely different things.
The former entails explanations and rational understandings; the latter requires attention. The ego, the many concepts, the grasping and clinging, the overanalyzing and worrying; these need to go. But, again, we can’t use our minds to eliminate these things.
We need to see through its illusions. Hence, it’s common for Zen monks to talk about Zen as little as possible. Revisiting Zen concepts over and over equals lingering in the mind: the problem they actually intend to solve.
We need to stop seeking—not just for enlightenment, but for anything—because the activity of ‘seeking’ is driven by a dissatisfied ego. In Zen Buddhism, meditation techniques are used to dissolve the clouds of illusion so that the sky of awareness becomes clear. As Thomas Merton describes: Buddhist meditation, but above all that of Zen, seeks not to explain but to pay attention, to become aware, to be mindful, in other words to develop a certain kind of consciousness that is above and beyond deception by verbal formulas—or by emotional excitement.
Deception in what? Deception in its grasp of itself as it really is. Deception due to diversion and distraction from what is right there—consciousness itself.
End quote. This process is gradual, which seems to contradict satori, which is a sudden event. But even though the cultivation of the state where satori may arise is a gradual process, satori itself still occurs suddenly: we never know when it will happen.
Zazen is a meditation method used by Zen practitioners. One of the goals of Zazen is developing a deep sense of focus, a right concentration or ‘one-pointedness,’ also known as ‘Ekaggata’ in Pali. I’ve encountered countless definitions of this state, which include stillness of mind, being in the present, and a harmony between bodily and mental energy.
Unlike conventional concentration, one-pointedness is relaxed and happens without effort or straining. The present moment becomes robust. There’s clarity.
There’s a lack of mental illusions. Usually, when there’s sufficient one-pointedness, the student begins koan practice. Koans are curious dialogues that intend to lay bare the teachings of Zen.
They’re used to test the student’s insight but also to progress on the path to true liberation. Koans are sophistically created to pierce through rational thinking, to trap it, to exhaust it, so one can experience what’s beyond it. Take, for example, a classic koan featuring Zen master Joshu: A monk asked Joshu, a Chinese Zen master: “Does a dog have Buddha-nature or not?
” Joshu replied: “Mu! ” Without context, this koan can seem puzzling. The answer “Mu” points to the Buddhist teaching of sunyata (emptiness), which denies any fixed essence behind phenomena, including the concept of Buddha nature.
Joshu’s response challenges the notion of searching for a “true nature. ” There is no concept of “true nature. ” There’s just this: direct experience beyond conceptual thinking.
However, by describing and naming it, I already succumbed to the mind’s illusory nature. I’m trying to wash off blood with blood. In essence, Zen isn’t a collection of ideas or concepts.
It’s about direct experience—something beyond words and impossible to fully grasp with the thinking mind. This experience isn’t something I can seek because I can’t even comprehend what I’m looking for. So, I guess the best way to describe Zen is… Thank you for watching.
