For many Westerners interested in Zen, the fact that Zen is really a form of Buddhist mysticism becomes an inconvenient truth for them. Whatever they believe that Zen is—it isn’t supposed to be a form of mysticism. In their minds Zen often appears to be a form of radical mediocrity in the sense of learning to accept life as it comes in which there is nothing transcendent except, perhaps, death. This wrongheaded view has been perpetuated, by and large, from the Zen halls of Western Zen teachers. They have found a strategy for selling Zen to Westerners who are, for the most part, materialists who, in addition, find religion more or less repugnant.
When Zen came to the West it came to a world-view deeply entrenched in various materialistic philosophies such as phenomenalism which believes there is nothing beyond sensory experience. Under such a view, Westerners were not eager to embrace an Asian religion which was oriented towards mysticism; which professed to transcend sensory experience and realize a transcendent experience. What they wanted was a religion that helped them cope with being a cog is the machinery of materialism. With a little tweaking, Zen became the perfect answer. It was marketed by Western Zen teachers as the antidote for our daily neurosis. This representation of Zen believed that the stresses in our lives were caused by over thinking. This harkens back to a time in American history when it was believed that neurasthenia (i.e., neurosis) was understood to be caused by “excessive brain work”. In the 20th remake of this, Zen becames the practice of nonthinking as a way to cope with stress. Nonthinking, in which excessive brain work is diminished, is achieved, according to Dainin Katagiri, when we “think not-thinking”!
Despite the fact the the history of Zen knew nothing of nonthinking as an antidote for neurosis or as a way to achieve enlightenment, such a belief, nevertheless, remains embedded in the circles of Western Zen. Yet, the bulk of classical Zen literature says, essentially, nothing about the suppression of thoughts. In fact, it says the opposite. According to the Zen master Hui-neng, non-thinking just means not to be carried away by our thoughts in the process of thinking. More importantly, we should know and see, as a mystical experience, the very medium of thought, itself, which is pure and radiant. As a consequence of knowing and seeing this pure medium, when a thought arises and then stops we know, intrinsically, the medium remains selfsame; which is our true nature. This is what Hui-neng really means by not getting carried away.
Westerners, particularly attached to materialism, have tried, over the years, to exclude traditional Zen literature from the modern text of Zen. At best it is found in the margins of the public Zen discourse. While there is no dearth of books on Zen in most bookstores, traditional books about Zen have to be ordered. One doesn’t, for example, find Sohaku Ogata’s book, The Transmission of the Lamp at Borders bookstore—in fact, it is now out of print. Those who buy and sell books look at the numbers—not the quality of the book. In fact, very few people are interested in traditional Zen. They want the modern version of Zen in which about sitting and not-thinking.
But maybe we should pause and review what mysticism means from a Buddhist perspective. According to Heinrich Dumoulin:
“The sphere of mysticism is thus clearly differentiated from phenomena such as sorcery, magic, and even speculative metaphysics. Since contact with the Absolute becomes, in mystical experience, a means of salvation, Buddhism, precisely because of its mystical element, must be regarded as a religion. Buddha, and those who followed him saw in mystical enlightenment the ‘vehicle of salvation’ that carried them beyond this world to the ‘other shore’” (A History of Zen Buddhism, 4).
It almost goes without saying, but without the transcendent, there can be no mystical experience. Furthermore, without the transcendent, neither can there be genuine salvation and, hence, no actual deliverance from suffering. So what is the point of religion sans salvation; indeed, what is the point of Buddhism if there is nothing mystical about it? The failure to pursue mysticism in religion—and here Zen Buddhism—can be likened somewhat to walking aimlessly for the sake of walking insofar as it makes a person feel good. While a Christian, who doesn’t care about mysticism, might carry a cross on this road over his shoulder, the modern Zennist is taught be mindful of his steps as a way of suppressing troubling thoughts. Needless to say, this is quite an absurd scene.
Mysticism can be thought of as the process of transcendentally detaching from our embodied condition in which there occurs a clear distinction between the body to which we are seemingly bound, and our primordial nature which has never been attached or embodied. In the state of embodiment, the very awareness of our body and the awareness of our mental life is the cause of embodiment. One might say that we have de-transcendentalized ourselves by our desire for the body and the world it has carved out for itself. On the other hand, by turning our awareness to what in Buddhism is called the undying-element, which is also unconditioned, we experience, for the first time, a separation from our previous embodied condition. This is rightly, nirvana. In fact, the etymology of nirvana suggests this in which the flame of life is detached from the fuel so that it is cool rather than hot (duhkha). This state, it needs underscoring, is not death. There is no comparison. In death the flame remains fuel-thirsty. In nirvana, one is spiritually separate from the fuel-body while they are still alive as if to say, “This, the body is one thing— yet, I have no part of it. It is like puppet which I animate; but I have no real connection with it. I am independent.” Such an experience, needless to say, cannot be imagined in any sense. For we are so conditioned by our sensory awareness to only perceive sensory based phenomena.
Traditionally, Zen has sought to experience the transcendent which is not connected with the body. It could not care less about dealing with the neurotic attitudes and behaviors of the many who flock to a modern Zen center. Nor is traditional Zen at all interested in sitting meditation. Meditation has to be ongoing—not just confined to sitting. Meditation for Zen is really an inner quest. One, in a manner of speaking, is immersed in the jungle of their mentations; who hopes to find a trace of the transcendent. This is what is expressed in the first print of Kaku-an’s remarkable Ten Ox Herding Prints. The Zennist, as a young oxherd, is depicted as searching for his lost ox. In D.T. Suzuki’s translation of the commentary to the first ox herding print, the ox is a metaphor for our true nature which we have lost sight of. The reason that the ox is lost is because of our deluding senses which aspire to worldly gain. The first stanza goes: “Alone in the wilderness, lost in the jungle, the boy is searching, searching!” It goes without saying, that this is a meditative search for our transcendent nature—not our mundane psychological nature which confronts the rat race.
Without a commitment to the transcendent and the mystical process for achieving communion with it, a student of Zen is not a student of Zen. He is a poseur. Such a student might even be a teacher of Zen who is making a comfortable living doing funerals (as is the case in Japan) or by playing the role of a Zen psychologist, as is often the case in America and Europe. Just joining a Zen center can hardly be called a commitment to the transcendent. By doing so, one is really committed to having their own private needs met which comes by way of a personality deficit. To take the mystical apporach requires much more. One has to be an intelligent person with few hang-ups and habits. This is a difficult path requiring extraordinary abilities. It is not a matter of being the Zen master’s errand boy or his fan, but of having a genuine love of the mystical path; wishing only to realize the transcendent. But such qualities are rare these days. Most people who practice Zen lack the ability to think out of the box. They are more content to be followers than heaven soaring spirits.