Is it possible to treat Zen philosophically? At the outset, it is necessary to acknowledge that the practitioners of Zen maintain strongly that Zen is not a philosophy. If it is treated as a developed philosophical system it has to be done over the protestations of its adherents. This seems an odd path to take, and puts one in the rather awkward position of claiming to know Zen more than the teachers and students of Zen do. Zen is not even comparable to a religion. It has no God or gods to worship, and thus has no theology. Shunryu Suzuki remarks:
Although there are many people in [America] who are interested in Buddhism, few of them are interested in its pure form. Most of them are interested in studying the teaching of the philosophy of Buddhism. Comparing it to other religions, they appreciate how satisfying Buddhism is intellectually. But whether Buddhism is philosophically deep or good or perfect is not the point.i
Zen cannot be approached in the standard way one generally approaches philosophy or theology. It does not begin with certain axioms or even observations and proceed to form a systematic exposition which becomes fundamental to a philosophy or theology. Yet it is not inapproachable. Philosophical propositions are not anterior to Zen, they do not quite underly and justify Zen, but it is possible to formulate some of the fundamental aspects of Zen in an explicit way that accurately portrays the Zen attitude concerning the nature of self and of the world, and of knowledge. Even when approached in this way, caution should be exercised. Part of the hesitancy on the part of Zen practitioners in associating philosophy with their discipline no doubt lies in the tendency of many philosophers to create a philosophy which is exhaustive, in which all that is necessary or useful has been said, or is easily derivable from what has been said. This betrays a trait inherent to rationalism which leaves no room for mystery, and which assumes that everything may be spoken in language and is rational. This essay does not set out to provide the epistemology of Zen Buddhism, rather the purpose is to set out an epistemology which is not essential to Zen and arises only secondarily from Zen. It is not intended to be exhaustive, nor is it intended to exclude other interpretations. It is merely a philosophical representation.
Keeping these cautions in mind, it is necessary to elucidate what, for the purposes of this essay, is meant by “epistemology.” Most importantly, this term is not to be used in the strictest of senses, for in this sense epistemology is too closely tied up with modern Western philosophy. Such a use of the term denotes particular characterizations of what it means to be a self, what kind of thing the world is, a particular framing of the means of perception, and other presuppositions. Because Zen did not arise within this tradition it is best to distance these notions from those found in Zen teachings. Instead “epistemology” will merely be a general account of the nature of knowledge, and, by extension, truth and falsity. Before we can develop an epistemology from Zen, we must specify what Zen is.
Above it has been established that Zen is not an abstract system of thought. It is not theoretical at all; in the words of master Dogen: “Practicing zen is zazen.”ii In order to practice zazen, one must find a quiet place, secluded from distracting activity. It should be protected from the weather, well lit, and not unnecessarily uncomfortable. The practitioner should sit on a pillow with his legs crossed in the full or half lotus position. “Place the right hand on the left foot and the left hand on the right hand, lightly touching the ends of the thumbs together. With the hands in this position, place them next to the body so that the joined thumb tips are at the naval.”iii Posture is especially important. In zazen one should not slouch or lean to the side, but sit up straight and symmetrically. The eyes should be not entirely open, nor entirely closed. One should breath in and breath out. Finally, the mind should be quieted, and one should think not-thinking. “How do you think not-thinking?” Dogen asks. “Nonthinking. This is the art of zazen.”iv
What is nonthinking? It is not something that can be described, for then, by forming and idea of it, it would be thinkable. But nonthinking is not open to thinking by definition. Thus, thinking not-thinking is performed by nonthinking. We cannot form any image or idea of nonthinking, because images and ideas can be thought. The only way to come to an understanding of nonthinking is not in positive theory, but through direct experience in practice. Therefore, the question “what is nonthinking” cannot be answered discursively; instead, it can be answered only by inviting the questioner to practice zazen.
Rather than ask what nonthinking is, it is beneficial to inquire how nonthinking is to be achieved. Through this question, we may come to something of an understanding of nonthinking. Further, from the answers to the questions we will find the grounding from which we may derive a basic epistemology. We will formulate three aspects of zazen, and then from these three aspects extract an understanding of the self and the world, and of knowledge.
One of the more striking features of zazen is the position one takes up while practicing it. Why the lotus position? Shunryu Suzuki explains:
When we cross our legs like this, even though we have a right leg and a left leg, they have become one. The position expresses the oneness of duality: not two, and not one. This is the most important teaching: not two, and not one. Our body and mind are not two and not one. If you think your body and mind are two, that is wrong; if you think they are one, that is also wrong. Our body and mind are both two and one. We usually think that if something is not one, it is more than one; if it is not singular, it is plural, but also singular. Each of us is both dependent and independent.v
If we say that something is one while excluding the ways it is not one, we deceive ourselves. If we say that something is many and exclude the ways in which it is not many, we again deceive ourselves. The lotus position does not signify that things are one or many, it simply allows them to be both. “The Buddha way is, basically, leaping clear of the many and the one...”vi This is the first point.
In addition to the lotus position, a great deal of importance is placed on breathing. At first this seems odd: we breathe all the time, why pay attention to it? Why is breathing significant unless something hinders it? But it is precisely the assertion “I breathe” that is deceptive. “If you think, 'I breathe,' the 'I' is extra. There is no you to say 'I.' What we call 'I' is just a swinging door which moves when we inhale and when we exhale. It just moves; that is all. When your mind is pure and calm enough to follow this movement, there is nothing: no 'I,' no world, no mind nor body; just a swinging door.”vii When I breathe, there is no “me” apart from my breathing. In that particular moment, I am my breathing, and I cannot be distinguished from my breathing. I am not a substance which breathes, the notion of substance is entirely superfluous. It presumes something beyond the phenomenal world, for nothing like a substance appears apart from an event unfolding temporally. There is no “I” apart from what is done or not done in a particular moment. This is the second point.
In order to perform zazen, one must control ones mind through non-attachment. “If you want to obtain perfect calmness in your zazen, you should not be bothered by the various images you find in your mind. Let them come, and let them go. Then they will be under control.”viii Any attachment to a particular thing alters the way in which one perceives reality. For example, if a person especially enjoys a certain kind of food, he grants it so much significance that it stands out in front of all the other foods on the table. Additionally, if one is too attached to an idea, say a memory of a heroic act he performed, then the “I” asserts itself strongly, imposing itself on the phenomenal world. Non-attachment allows the control of the mind, and freedom from the “I.”
The unifying theme in these three points is that they attempt to surpass deception to get at reality. It is here that we find material with which we can construct an epistemology. Zen distinguishes between delusion and reality, and so must have something of an explicit epistemology. “The true purpose is to see things as they are, to observe things as they are, and to let everything go as it goes... Zen practice is to open up our small mind.”ix What is it that constitutes delusion?
It has already been said above that to judge a thing as one or as many is deceptive, for there are ways in which anything can be seen as simple or composite, dependent or independent. Is it simply enough to say that we should view a thing as simple in this respect and composite in that respect? Philosophers who declare that all things are truly one or truly many surely err in their general outlook. Yet most people are not philosophers, and such questions as the ultimate nature of the universe don't seem to come up often. However, in our thoughtful engagement in everyday life we find ourselves distinguishing between this or that thing, emphasizing either unifying themes in events or the ways in which they are dissimilar. The sort of classification where one says “but this is just the same as that” or “but they are not the same thing at all” is quite common, and they are delusions. Ultimately there are similarities and dissimilarities, but these are not properly in the things themselves, but in the way we associate things and mediate experience.
Likewise, we have a strong tendency to divide ourselves from our world, or from events in our world. This division does not come from experience itself, but from an active effort on our part for the “I” to appropriate aspects of experience. “This memory or feeling is mine, it is what defines me.” But the enduring “I” is a delusion. Commonly this comes from a mistaken epistemological position that our minds and the world are distinguishable. Suzuki distinguishes between what he calls “big mind” and “small mind”:
Nothing comes from outside your mind. Usually we think of our mind as receiving impressions and experiences from outside, but that is not a true understanding of our mind. The true understanding is that the mind includes everything; when you think something comes from outside it means only that it appears in your mind... If you leave your mind as it is, it will become calm. This mind is called big mind.
If your mind is related to something outside itself, that mind is a small mind, a limited mind. If your mind is not related to anything else, then there is no dualistic understanding in the activity of your mind. You understand activity as just waves of your mind. Big mind experiences everything within itself. Do you understand the difference between the two minds: the mind which includes everything, and the mind which is related to something? Actually, they are the same mind, but the understanding is different...x
Suziki's primary point is that one should not attempt to understand experience as a self which separates itself from the phenomenal world. This is why, when one practices zazen, everything they experience practices zazen as well; there is no sharp distinction between self and world. This leads directly to the third point, the practice of non-attachment. It was previously mentioned that being attached to things, ideas, or memories is a means of the “I” possessing these things by attempting to make them ones own and not letting them be as they are.
Delusion therefore arises in these three ways: by calling things one or many, by being attached, and as a result by remaining a small self which opposes itself to the world. The common features here are that each of these cause a distortion of reality; they all impose something on experience that conditions it and is not truly present in it. Zen seeks to go beyond this delusion, to find true genuine experience. But such an experience cannot be contained within a philosophical system, for this is mediated and a step away from true experience. It is not found in the worship of a deity, for deities are rather notoriously absent from direct experience, and the conventional understanding of God requires one to distinguish between God and the created world. Truth is found in the direct experience of the moment, a moment in which one ceases rational thought which tirelessly and artificially unites and divides, and simply is. This is why zazen is practiced. But what is it to practice zazen? We already have the answer: “to think not-thinking.” How is this achieved? “Nonthinking.”
We have seen that it is possible to develop an epistemology which addresses the nature of the self and the world, and of true and false knowledge. Yet in the end, this epistemology is a negative one. One is directed away from delusion, but not given a positive description of truth. This is necessary, for to give a positive description would be deceptive. In order to avoid deception and experience truth, it is necessary to simply practice zazen. To use a saying Shunryu Suzuki was fond of: “That is all.”
iShunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginners Mind, (Boston: Shambhala Publications, 2006), p 123.
iiDogen, Moon in a Dewdrop, (New York: North Point Press, 1995) p. 29.
iiiDogen, 30.
ivDogen, 30.
vSuzuki, 25.
viDogen, 69.
viiSuzuki, 29.
viiiSuzuki, 32.
ixSuzuki, 33.
xSuzuki, 34-35.
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