The Zen Studies Podcast

When we sit Zazen, even if we're working with a koan, we do not actively try to achieve insight. But nonetheless, Chan and Zen masters throughout history have exhorted us to awaken to Reality. How does insight happen when you're "just sitting?" How do you awaken to what you have not yet seen without getting caught up in concepts of enlightenment and delusion, before and after? How do you lean into the unknown if you're trying to let go of any kind of doing at all?

To keep your Dharma practice lively, it's important to regularly identify the "edge" of your practice. This is your growth point – the current limit of your understanding and your capacity to embody it. Of course, you don't have a single edge; it might be more accurate to say it's important to identify something on your growth "perimeter," or find one of your many edges, so you focus your practice or have a dialogue with a teacher. I discuss what an edge is, what it means to find one, why this is important, and how to go about it.

In Buddhism, we are guided by the ideal of a Buddha, or awakened being. One of the characteristics of a Buddha is unconditional and selfless generosity, and when your generosity is blocked, you can be sure that some part of you still needs understanding, healing or liberation. On the other hand, when you're able to set aside your self-doubt and imagine yourself as a Buddha, when you look on other beings as if they were your children, you may find your generosity flows more naturally.

Since the term arose in 1950's, "self-care" has referred to a number of different things. If we consider self-care to be things you do to remain physically and mentally healthy, then Zazen – simple, goalless, Zen meditation – can be seen as excellent self-care. In these troubled times, such self-care can even be seen as defiant – refusing to be broken down by challenging circumstances. Other forms of meditation can also be seen as self-care, of course, but Zazen can be a little difficult to get your mind around. Framing it as self-care may help you appreciate what it's all about.

Viewed historically, Zen is a form of Mahayana Buddhism that evolved from the original forms Buddhism that were established in India after the Buddha's death around 2,500 BC. Many aspects of original Buddhism are retained in Zen, including respect for Shakyamuni Buddha and his teachings. However, the degree of transformation Buddhism underwent when it took root in China and evolved into Chan (later called "Zen" in Japan) is difficult to overestimate, resulting in a path of radical nondualism. Both the ultimate goal of practice and the means to achieve that goal changed so radically that it's legitimate to question whether Chan is even Buddhism. If you want to walk the path of Zen/Chan, it's essential to understand how it differs from original Buddhism.

This is one of my unscripted Q&A episodes, where I answer questions submitted by listeners. If you have a question, go ahead and send it to me at zenstudiespodcast.com. I discuss: What does Kosho Uchiyama mean in his book Opening the Hand of Thought, when he talks about "settling as universal life?" Isn't the Zen emphasis on monastic practice and self-liberation at odds with the Bodhisattva Vow to free all beings? What can we learn from practicing with other Buddhist traditions than our own, and is this recommended if we don't live near a Zen center?

In this episode I read and reflect on Chapter One of Keizan's Denkoroku: Record of the Transmission of Illumination. In it, Shakyamuni Buddha holds up a flower and blinks. Keizan says, "No one knew his intention, and they were silent." Then Mahakashyapa gives a slight smile, and the Buddha acknowledges him as his Dharma heir. What is going on in this koan? Keizan challenges our ideas about awakening, time, causation, and the nature of self.

The form of meditation we do in Zen, unless we're working on a koan, is called shikantaza – nothing but sitting – or silent illumination. It's been called a "method of no method," in which we let go of any striving whatsoever – even to control our meditative experience. So can we do "bad zazen?" Theoretically, there's no such thing, and yet it sure feels like there is! What is this about?