Zen Series - Part 1: Theory, History & Context: Overview

“Ironically, it was not in his nihilistic view of Buddhism but in such ideas as amor fati and the Dionysian as the overcoming of nihilism that Nietzsche came closest to Buddhism, and especially to Mahāyāna”

Keiji Nishitani – The self-overcoming of Nihilism

Zen, to many in the West, remains appropriately enigmatic and this is in spite of its growing popularity and vibrant sprawling eco-system of various schools and lineages. It is my own perspective that if it is not enigmatic, then it is more than likely completely wrongfully interpreted, wrongfully contextualised, or perhaps simply not properly practiced. Often the worst offenders are practitioners.

If one were to be so bold as to enter a modern day yoga studio (like a fox amongst the hens…at least in my case) you will undoubtedly witness self-proclaimed slore ‘yogi’s’ and other assorted malcontents carelessly throwing around idiotic clichés about how they’re ‘freeing their mind’, ‘seeking liberation’, ‘letting my mind free’, or worst of all having another ‘out of body experience’. This really just goes to show how little they have actually managed to integrate. Lack of awareness is indeed not awareness and this is the danger of poor context in practice. 

It is not, however, entirely their fault and it can take even a sound mind some time to wade through the cretinous theories of various pudding-head dum-dums. This is true even for those of higher cognitive means and aptitude.  

This is also one of the purposes of this blog. I wish to impart some hard won knowledge so you, the frog reader, do not have to waste your precious time. I will attempt to do it succinctly and without an overdose of pretentious polemic. Fortunately, some light glimmers awry amongst all this doctrinal, semantic and definitional mish-mash, and it is something I portend can put things right in the West, for dissidents at least. 

In my opinion this is the art of Zen and the practice of Zazen. This is a strange path and practice probably reserved for a very particular mind. The kind of mind I often notice in circles I frequent, online or not. I even know Christians whom have integrated this practice into their lives. And this is why I feel compelled to write my 4 part series on it, as I am now convinced that it is critical to integrate this practice in a world aghast of destructive concepts and word play, filled to the brim with sick and crouched bodies. Without a severe practice like Zazen, I see us gaining very little as individuals or as groups. In this world, what is required is a strong stomach and the ability to stand as observer, all the time with a smile on your face.

In the people I meet there appears to be an ubiquitous misunderstanding of the proper historical and practical contexts to which I have found literally lends subtle strength to Zazen practice. Correct emphasis of body and mind are of course essential to this high-born and virile, yet highly accessible set of practices. With the right views one fosters self-becoming and stands as a ‘solid oak tree against (her) raging tempest’, as Heartiste once poetically surmised, albeit about women. Zazen is certainly not an acquiescent practice, nor an excuse for a meek mind to seek shelter. 

Controversially, in some ways I do not even think Zen is strictly “Buddhism” per se, however as Acharya Rajneesh once said, it is certainly of the Buddha, and this is an important distinction that I would like to circle back to later on.

In my view, context and correct philosophical notion act as a Pegasus on which ones practice ascends to higher levels. Yet it has been an observation in myself and others that without some degree of philosophical pedigree, one can easily be ‘held up’ and enter all sorts of fits of fancy, all sorts of infantile notions of ‘love’ or ‘bliss’ or ‘kindness’ or my favourite ‘turn the other cheek’. Many of the worst ideas come from what typically these days are virtues and moralities associated with the political left-wing; so it comes as perhaps no surprise that these practices that are rigorous and difficult, and are often suited to the mindset of someone on the modern right. In a way I like to think that good philosophy, along with good practice allows one to literally take a hammer to wrongful outlooks very effectively, and this is why it is such a potent practice. This is only one element, however, and there are physical, measurable changes that can be observed on a cellular level. 

What should be sought is a maturity and sophistication of mind which ironically leads to a kind of acknowledgement of the absolute limitations of ‘mind-as-such’ and thus a true engagement with the possibilities of ‘awareness’.

In many respects it is the simplest practice there is; and yet when properly engaged in, it is extremely powerful. You cannot run away or escape into fantasy or imagination, nor can you escape into some Hinduistic notion of void or sensory depravation. It can lead to powerful effects in body and mind, particularly the prolonged practice of Sesshin, in which Zazen becomes an intrinsically lion-hearted statement that you are making to yourself and this universe – that against all odds I choose to sit and ignore all my mechanistic autonomic compulsions; I choose in this moment to reject what I am and yet to unequivocally accept it. 

I often describe it as a rebellion against nature and an embrace of it all at once, or perhaps better put; a rebellion against lower nature through the action of sitting and observing, a red-blooded and deliberate, transcendent and transformative contumacy. 

After some time, usually about 5 minutes, one with sufficient acumen notices that all humans (myself included) are almost entirely compulsive and not really in control in the way that they think they are. Like the layers of an onion so are the layers of awareness. This is one of the most striking insights Zazen offers, that you appear to be peeling off layers of misapprehension. Awareness offers a kind of freedom. The best way I hear it put, and I can’t remember exactly where, is that it is like climbing a mountain. You may climb to a certain height and have a good view of the landscape. The higher you climb the higher your view of the surrounds. You may choose to rest at a level that satisfies you, or go on. 

You quickly realise the potential to reshape both sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, to seek greater conscious control of these powerful functions. Of course, as brain dissections of zen monks reveal, and I will reveal in the future, there is more going on than just this.

“…The Wisconsin study took electroencephalograms (EEGs) of 10 longtime Buddhist practitioners and of a control group of eight college students who had been lightly trained in meditation. While meditating, the monks produced gamma waves that were extremely high in amplitude and had long-range gamma synchrony—the waves from disparate brain regions were in near lockstep, like numerous jump ropes turning precisely together. The synchrony was sustained for remarkably long periods, too. The students’ gamma waves were nowhere near as strong or tuned.”

Scientific American – Zen Gamma 

This all became immediately apparent to me when I commenced my own Zazen. I consider it of the upmost importance we pave the way for the new man, a deliberate turn to something superior and I posit this practice or some variant thereupon must play some part. 

Now a word on awareness and the detractors of Zen that would assert it is about void or the darkness or some kind of Western view of a dangerous absolute nihilism. 

Sūnyatā, a term with complex meaning refers to nothingness or the comprehension thereupon. It is commonly misconceived as referring to a kind of senseless vacuum, a void or a place of no sensory content, and in many Hindu schools it is indeed seen this way. In Zen, however, it is not a catatonic blank absorption into some kind of nothingness, as far as this may be possible.

“The key Sanskrit term in Mahāyāna Buddhism here is śūnyatā (“emptiness”; kū in Japanese)…the Chinese glyph mu (“nothingness”; wu in Chinese), which is found predominantly in Zen, and which reflects the early attempt to “match terms” with Daoism in the translation and interpretive development of Buddhism in China….In Mahāyāna Buddhism śūnyatā refers first of all to the fact that all things come into being in “interdependent origination” (Sanskrit: pratītya-samutpāda; Japanese: engi), and they are therefore “empty” of any independent substantial self-nature or “own-being” (Sanskrit: svabhāva). This thought is closely tied to the basic Buddhist thesis of “no-self” or “non-ego” (Sanskrit: anātman; Japanese: muga). All beings, including the ego, are interconnected and in flux. Psychologically, śūnyatā refers also to the releasement from all attachment to beings, from all reification and willful appropriation of them.”

B W Davis – The Kyoto School 

Simply stated, śūnyatā is in fact the pursuit of space and awareness and of the interconnected nature of all things and phenomena. ‘Pure’ awareness by its very definition should contain everything and not nothing, and therefore is not senseless absorption within void. Quite the opposite. It refers to awareness of all things. A quote from a 14th century Tibetan Text on awareness strikes to the heart of this:

“…a state of bare, transparent awareness; Effortless and brilliantly vivid, a state of relaxed wisdom; Fixation free and crystal clear, a state without the slightest reference point; Spacious empty clarity, a state wide open and unconfined, the senses unfettered…”

Garab Dorje – Striking the Vital Point in Three Statements

It is within this space that we find the power to discard concepts that no longer serve our ends, this being something I wish to focus on in this blog, since we’ve been taught a load of nonsense our whole lives. We don’t really need more conceptualisation in my view and we probably need to work on pruning ideologies and opinions of ourselves to burn away the dead wood and chisel ourselves in accordance with our own will; and always in accordance with nature within and without. Life is in an ever-changing impermanent flux, in which we are free to create, discard and recreate. Nishida of the Kyoto School said it best in his last publication:

“The concept of the creative world as a self-transforming matrix involves neither an emanationistic nor a merely generative, emergently evolutionary world. Nor again is it a world of intellectual intuition, as people say who misunderstand me. It is always the existential world of dynamic individual expression, moving from the created to the creating – the world of the personal self, and of absolutely individual will” 

Nishida, Last Writings

Fundamentally there is not all that much to this practice. In my view this is the reason it remains so widely misunderstood. We in the West tend to radically overcomplicate things, this is apparently our nature at this time. We are full of ideologies and moralistic posturing. Full of strange forms of egotism, hangups from childhood and culture. In reality very little of this truly serves us and is by definition, deadening, for it serves in many respects as a severe impediment to an individuals ability to capture something higher; something qualitatively better in life and culture. Aside from this, strong practice can make one happier and more connected with life. I won’t quote science here, I personally dislike scientising everything.  

One of my greatest criticisms of modern Christianity, the predominant religion for now in my own culture, is its complete lack of any real technique for ecstatic and transcendent experience. In fact, historically, almost all of these “christo-mytical” offshoots, such as the ‘Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola’, alchemy or hermeticism for example were shut down, impeded by the church or simply not widely encouraged for practice. But I digress, perhaps this is not relevant to the present discussion. 

Without insulting the intelligence of my no doubt knowledgable reader, it is in the meditative, contemplative practice gleaned from the written historical record that the eternal TRUE SANSKRIT, in which Buddhism has its seeds, can first be seen in concrete form. In my view, many of these practices were probably practiced throughout the Indo-European diaspora. Early references to what was probably an initiatory process appear strikingly in the Vedic texts. If you read the Rig Veda you will find references to ecstatic practices with a particular focus on breath. This tells me that these ideas date back well beyond 2500 thousand years, and in my opinion are as old as humanity itself. We see similar practices in shamanistic cultures for example that have lineages that stretch in distant human history. Verses such as the following should really tickle ones fancy:

Rig Veda verse 1:66:1, “breath which is the life,” 

1:113:16. “In thee is each living creature’s breath and life”,

(1:48:10)“Breath which is the life, like one’s own son” 

(1:66:1) The breath is the extension of our inmost life. It is our “offspring.”

“All the world that moves and breathes” (1:101:5), 

(1:113:16) “Arise! the breath, the life, again hath reached us: darkness hath passed away and light approacheth”

(1:48:10) “In thee is each living creature’s breath and life” The breath is inseparable from Brahman.

10:121:2. Brahman is also described as “giver of breath”

“Ye Sapient Ones who made the lightly-rolling car out of your mind, by thought, the car that never errs,

You, being such, to drink of this drink-offering, you, O ye Vājas, and ye Ṛbhus, we invoke.”

And of course, it was from this tradition, and more specifically the apparent rejection of the yogic systems of both brahmanism and Zoroastrianism, that Buddhism apparently arose. In all Buddhist practice, Zen included, the breath is considered an actual body within the body – exactly as Buddha speaks of it in the Anapanasati Sutra. It is called the pranamaya kosha – the body formed of breath or Prana. And working with it is known as Pranayama. Such practices were clearly well developed by this time and divergent schools had already emerged. I take the position that Prince Siddhartha took the position of a rebel, growing weary of the sacrificial, rigid tradition that had severely degenerated. He had rebelled to simply practice and to return to the virility of the seers of old; something perhaps we are trying to do now? 

However worthless our own efforts may turn out to be as a result of our decrepit modern hardwares….

Our first records of yogic breathing practices in the West specifically comes from texts created by Greek chroniclers and historians during the invasions of Alexander the Great into central Asia and Bactria. Several Greeks texts, including the works of Phyrro (someone I will concentrate on in my own video series and podcasts), probably contain our earliest records of the original forms of Buddhism. This is an idea we will examine in this blog series and something now taken seriously by several historians and academics. 

We know for example that the first records of breathing and yogic exercises mentioned in the Chinese traditions date from about the same time, from instructions on a famous green jade staff that appear to have been central to the introduction of Taoist practices. 

I have no real evidence for my position that I will express here, it is theory only – I now firmly believe that the narrative is probably as follows. 

When stumbling on the tired traditional practices of the Brahmanic culture and then the dualistic imposition of Zoroastrianism that Darius the Great attempted to impose on the populace and ruling satraps that he had apparently gifted to his Scythian mercenaries; the Prince Gautama, a warrior and a man raised in an incredibly violent and virile society, whom had become sick of the indulgences of the priestly class, sought the ultimate rebellion and chose therefore to reject all the trappings of the culture that he saw had become sick. As BAP has quoted once or twice the Prince is noted to have said “the home is a place of filth”. I believe he was seeking something more organic, something superior, something he was more connected to through the great traditions of the steppe peoples, his Scythian and Indo-Aryan family being a relatively recent import to the sub-continent. He sought psychological escape from a place he came to consider lowly, common and loutish and it was also here he saw the raw traditions of the steppe devolve. Like a true reformer, he probably noticed many of the practices had become sick and disconnected from their true source, the Sophia Perennis. 

We will not delve too deeply into this matter since I am producing a series on the historicity of Buddhist practice – though it is important to contextualise Zen meditation and where it came from. In my view meditation in various forms is probably as old as humanity itself and I contend the true ancients were probably more able to engage in the manner of being; this simplicity of spirit.

My own view is that the vast emptiness of a vastly less populated world during travel, combined with the unhindered biological expressionism of these early peoples cultivated a kind of primeval state of being. The inexplicable immensity surrounding them and the fact they didn’t retain iPhones or televisions or ideologies; their simplicity of character and closeness to their own biology and simple lack of conceptual complexity allowed access to these states of mind as a simple manner of existence and character.

I have no evidence of this, of course, and it could simply be complete and utter nonsense – though it seems logical to me. It is just a theory…well some of it is. It is a collage that I have spent much time putting together.

Many accept shamanistic depictions in ancient cave pantings as indicative of some sort of semi-mystical fervour or spiritualistic outlooks in the distant ancients. It would be hard to imagine as the aeons rolled through that no different initiatory forms and practices were passed down and refined through the endless generations.  

So why do I say all this? Because I see Zen after many years of practice and study as a return to the primordial. 

What is commonly referred to as “Zen Buddhism” according to Acharya Rajneesh, in his wonderful book on Zen practice – which I recommend to everyone interested Zen – obviously does trace its roots from the Buddha or Siddhartha Gautama through a direct lineage of patriarchs. But it is not Buddhism in any strict sense, since it does not really entail any of the typical forms of worship endemic to the Theravada school. Respect maybe, but not worship. 

A brief history if I may.

According to legend, the first Patriarch Maha Kasyapa received a direct transmission from the Buddha; being one of the Buddha’s primary disciples and according to the traditions of Chan or Zen Buddhism these direct transmissions of enlightenment continued through to recent times, although gaining significant complexity as different schools of Zen developed in different countries. Later, the monk Bodhidharma – the 28th Patriarch in the apparently direct line from the Buddha – brought Zen to China. A flourishing of Zen then occurred throughout China and eventually the rest of East Asia, particularly Japan in later times, a place where the practice suitably reached its zenith of sophistication. I have visited Japan many times and I’ve often wondered if Zen is a result of the character of these people, or rather the people are a result of Zen. Any case, it provided fertile soil for its ultimate refinement and what we see today. 

It is arguable however that this process of degeneration I have been raving on about has again occurred in Japan. Noticing this, many Japanese masters have formed a kind of diaspora and created new lineages and as a result in most Western capital cities you have access to relatively good instruction. 

I once had an interesting conversation with an ordained monk whom studied under my own master. She asserted that in her view, Japan had become steeped in ritualism, bland traditionalism and adherence to ritual for the sake of ritual. Monasteries had become financial investments and abbot-ship was passed down from father to son, even if these people did not practice. One of the surprising and probably deliberate elements of Zen’s spread to the West was that it had regained a certain vitality that had become stultified in Japan. Indeed it was being practiced in many interesting and new ways. I found this a pleasing statement and a kind of vindication of my earlier assessments of Prince Siddharta’s own context.  

In Zen it is recognised that the Buddha, a word simply meaning awakened one, in fact lived and died as a man, not as a god or godhead to be worshipped in a Semitic traditional sense or what we could term as a servile fashion. 

Zen is not a system of beliefs. Zen is not a philosophy or a set of dogmas that we imprison ourselves with. Zen is not a flowery way to look at the world. Zen has often been adopted by martial experts like Samurais, whom practiced meditation and made many Zen outlooks a part of their own codes. Zen is regal in its essential nature, and certainly it is not an equalist philosophy. It is in fact entirely elitist and contains within it a requirement for a rather severe discipline. This being the hallmark of any useful system. 

Zen can therefore be described as a discipline of transforming our normal monkey mind processes by staying focused in the present, always. As the saying goes, “Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water”. The point here being that this momentary presence should be in all things, from chopping wood, washing dishes, bench pressing, preparing food, writing an informational blogpost or, as we shall see, practicing Zazen, or “sitting” meditation.

I like to see Zen as an accompanying practice in which one can foster and develop an elitist and imperial mindset and manner of being.  There is nothing “turn the other cheek” about Zen or Mahayana Buddhist practices for that matter. A fitting quote to complete this first treatise:

“The Zen master Bankei always insisted on having a painting of the buddha hanging behind him, and talking to his disciples he would say, ‘looks at this fellow. Whenever you meet him, kill him immediately; don’t give him a chance. While meditating he will disturb you. Whenever you see his face in meditation, just kill him then and there; otherwise, he will follow you’…Bankei said ‘All this has been taught to me by this fellow, so I have to pay him respect’.

Osho – Zen, it’s History and Teaching and Impact on Humanity 

We must let nothing stand in our way, most of all, ourselves.