Discovering Zen
“My name is Scott and my practice is counting my breaths.”
I’ve never been someone who sticks with a habit. Every time I try to eat better or exercise more, I always end up falling off as something more immediate takes precedence. Yet as I spoke those words to my teacher during my first dokusan, I felt a bond with the process deeper than a standard habit commitment, which to me has always felt like a half-hearted New Year’s resolution.
To speak or write about zen is to miss its true reality; this much I have learned already in my four weeks since I took my first newbie workshop at the local Rochester Zen Center. And yet, here we are, and there many before me have been, trying to wrap words around something that is by definition indescribable. Can you explain what it feels like to be at the peak of a mountain? Can you truly explain the feeling of looking across a completely still lake on a warm, moonlit summer night? The zen process is a window into this sort of feeling and experience in everyday life. Not that it will always make you feel on top of a mountain or sitting at a still lake, but you will realize that every moment of every day is indescribably precious.
Adopting a daily religious practice is a big change for an atheist who is terrible with new habits. But zen and atheism are not necessarily incompatible. Zen doesn’t require that you believe in reincarnation (though some do) or any sort of salvation aside from the idea that enlightenment/awakening is life’s own very reachable salvation. There’s nothing inherently supernatural. In fact, I find my own scientific leanings increase my compatibility with zen. Its teachings about each moment being precious make perfect sense to those of us who know there’s no afterlife and all we have are a series of fleeting, ticking seconds. Its teachings about nothing being permanent make sense to those who know that even the most solid of walls is still a group of atoms in flux.
Here’s my take as a novice. The practice itself is easy: sit perfectly still with proper posture and focus on your breath. The goal is considerably harder: clear your mind of all thought and be completely present in the current moment.That’s 90% of what you need to begin and 90% of what you can be taught from the outside. If you do have a local Zen Center, I would recommend going as they can help you get more out of the practice. They can offer dokusan, a traditional one-on-one private encounter/instruction with the teacher, and sitting in groups feels more effective than sitting by oneself. There’s a shared energy that pushes you farther than you might go alone.
For me, it’s been both natural and a struggle. It’s come naturally because, well, what’s more inherently natural than sitting and being aware of your breathing? I’ve felt improved focus and calmness already, two things I’ve consistently struggled with, just four weeks in. It’s been a struggle because we are so conditioned to multitask; to always be thinking, always doing, always checking social media, always consuming some product or service. For one to sit and be present goes completely against the modern order. It feels graceful and empowering to throw it all aside for 20 minutes a day and just be here.
So, I place my trust in the process and I sit. And I’ll be sitting right here as long as I can.
For more in-depth information on the ritual, practice and philosophy, I recommend The Three Pillars of Zen by Philip Kapleau, the founder of the Rochester Zen Center. The RZC also has podcasts available on iTunes.
