According to Encyclopædia Britannica (2006), Zen came from the Chinese word Ch'an (from Sanskrit dhyana, “meditation”). Zen was an important school of Buddhism in Japan that claims to transmit the spirit or essence of Buddhism, which consists in experiencing the enlightenment (bodhi) achieved by Gautama Buddha. This school arose in the 6th century in China as Ch'an, a form of Mahayana Buddhism; though introduced centuries earlier, Zen did not fully develop in Japan until the 12th century. In its secondary developments of mental tranquility, fearlessness, and spontaneity—all faculties of the enlightened mind—the school of Zen has had lasting influence on the cultural life of Japan.

To experience Zen, a central way of directly experiencing the underlying unity is termed as zazen (sitting meditation). “To sit,” said the Sixth Zen Patriarch, “means to obtain absolute freedom and not to allow any thought to be caused by external objects. To meditate means to realize the imperturbability of one’s original nature” (Stryk, 1969). Prescriptions for the manner of sitting are quite rigorous: one must take a specific upright posture and then not move during the meditation period, to avoid distracting the mind. Skillful means are then applied to make the mind one-pointed and clear. One beginning practice is simply to watch and count each inhalation and exhalation from one to ten, starting over from one if anything other than awareness of the breath enters the mind. Although this explanation sounds simple, the mind is so restless that many people must work for months before finally getting to ten without having to start over. Getting to ten is not really the goal; the goal is the process itself, the process of recognizing what comes up in the mind and gently letting it go without attachment or preferences.

As one sits in zazen, undisturbed by phenomena, as soon as one becomes inwardly calm, the natural mind is revealed in its original purity. This “original mind” is spacious and free, like an open sky. Thoughts and sensations may float through it like clouds, but they arise and then disappear, leaving no trace. What remains is reality, “True Thusness.” In some Zen schools, this perception of thusness comes in a sudden burst of enlightenment, or kensho.

When the mind is calmed, action becomes spontaneous and natural. Zen practitioners are taught to have great confidence in their natural functioning, for it arises from our essential Buddha-nature. It is said that two Zen monks, on becoming enlightened, ran naked through the woods scribbling on rocks.

On the other hand, the Zen tradition links spontaneity with intense, disciplined concentration. In the art of calligraphy, the perfect spontaneous brushstroke—executed with the whole body, in a single breath—is the outcome of years of attentive practice. Giving ourselves fully to the moment, to be aware only of pouring tea when pouring tea, is a simplicity of beingness that most of us have to learn. Then whatever we give ourself to fully, be it painting, or serving tea, or simply breathing, reveals the “thusness of life,” its unconditioned reality. As one of the most durable forms of Buddhism in Asia, zen influence has extended to martial arts, gardening, haiku, motorcycle maintenance and many other things (Gach, 2001).

Another tool used in one Zen tradition is the koan. Here the attention is focused ardently on a question that boggles the mind, such as “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” or “What is your face before your parents’ birth?” As Roshi (venerable teacher) Philip Kapleau (1980) observed, “Koans deliberately throw sand into the eyes of the intellect to force us to open our Mind’s eye and see the world and everything in it undistorted by our concepts and judgments.” To concentrate on a koan, one must look closely at it without thinking about it, experiencing it directly. Beyond abstractions, Roshi Kapleau (1980) explained that “the import of every koan is the same: that the world is one interdependent Whole and that each separate one of us is that Whole”.

Essentially, the aim of Zen practice is enlightenment, or satori. This is described as the occurrence when a person is directly experiencing the unity of all existence, often in a sudden recognition that nothing is separate from oneself. As one Zen master put it:

The moon’s the same old moon,
The flowers exactly as they were,
Yet I’ve become the thingness
Of all the things I see! (Bunan, 1969)

Thus, with Zen, all aspects of life become at the same time utterly precious, and utterly empty, “nothing special.” This paradox can be sensed only with the mystically expanded consciousness; it cannot be grasped intellectually.

Sources:
Bunan. World of the Buddha, Lucien Stryk (ed.), (New York: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1969).

Gach, Gary. Complete Idiot's Guide to Understanding Buddhism. (Indianapolis, IN, USA: Alpha Books, 2001).

Kapleau, Roshi Philip. The Three Pillars of Zen, (New York: Anchor Books, 1980).

Stryk, Lucien (ed.). World of the Buddha (New York: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1969).

Zen. Encyclopædia Britannica. 2006. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. http://www.search.eb.com/eb/article-9078315.