INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION by Zenkai Taiun Michael J. Elliston Abbot Of

INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion

INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION

By Zenkai Taiun Michael J. Elliston

Abbot of the Silent Thunder Order and the Atlanta Soto Zen Center

Table of Contents INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION...... 1 Introduction...... 7 Past Imperfect...... 7 Present Perfect ...... 8 Future Pluperfect...... 8 I. PAST...... 10 A. Debate? What Debate?...... 10 It’s Debatable...... 10 It’s Not Debatable...... 11 Couching Terms...... 12 Subjective Objectivity...... 13 Objective Subjectivity...... 14 Formal Debate...... 15 Verbal Abuse...... 15 Undefined Evidence...... 16 Evidentiary Confusion ...... 16 Theory in Fact...... 17 I Believe...... 17 Mediate the Debate...... 17 Media Madness ...... 18 Fact or Fiction...... 19 Ideas at War...... 19 Why Debate?...... 21 Precepts of Science...... 22 Oxymoronic Arrogance...... 23 Scientific Intelligence...... 25 Public Polarization...... 26 Middle Ground...... 28 B. Church versus State ...... 32 An Ugly Baby...... 33 Big Brother, Big Father...... 35 Literalist Lemmings...... 36 Virtual Vatican...... 37 Outside Intelligence...... 38 Ideological Evidence...... 39 Cause-Effect Complex...... 41 Abandonment Angst...... 43 Highest Intelligence ...... 44 Designer Government...... 46 You Are What You Believe...... 47 Republic of Religion...... 48 Divine Democracy...... 49 Dissension Amongst the Pews...... 50

Absolute Relative Uncertainty...... 52 God in Court...... 53 Pan-Religious Precepts...... 54 Taking It to the Schools...... 56 Imaginary Persecution...... 57 God In and On School...... 58 Fertile Ground...... 62 Johnny Can’t Read...... 63 C. Buddhism and Christianity...... 66 Uncommon Commonality...... 66 Christ versus Buddha...... 67 Buddhism versus Christianity...... 67 Buddha was not Buddhist; Christ was not Christian...... 68 Buddha was not Christian; Christ was not Buddhist...... 69 Reconcilable Commonalities ...... 70 Irreconcilable Differences...... 71 Self versus Soul...... 71 Good versus Evil...... 71 Natural Evil...... 72 Crime and Consequence...... 73 God versus No God...... 73 God’s Will...... 74 God and Buddhism...... 75 Buddhism With or Without God...... 75 Infallibly Inerrant ...... 77 Prayer of Efficacy...... 78 Miraculously Ordinary...... 78 Divinity of Christ...... 79 Salvation via Savior...... 80 Absolution by Proxy...... 81 Conversion by Coercion...... 82 Christians are not Christians; Buddhists are not Buddhists...... 82 Toward a Science of Religion...... 83 D. Basics of Buddhism...... 84 Description versus Prescription...... 85 Three Treasures [Diagram 1]...... 86 Four Noble Truths [Diagram 2] ...... 87 Noble Eightfold Path [Diagram 3 & 3a]...... 89 Six Perfections (paramita) [Diagram 4] ...... 91 Chain of Interdependent Origination (pratitya-samutpada) [Diagram 5] ...... 96 Five Aggregates [Diagram 6] ...... 105 Five Aggregates & Meditation [Diagram 7] ...... 106 Meditation and Beyond...... 111 II. PRESENT...... 113 A. The Middle Way ...... 113

More than Moderation...... 114 Expedient Means...... 114 Field: Science Zen Christianity ...... 115 3. Reliance: Perseverance Doubt Faith ...... 115 1. Question: How? Why? What? ...... 115 2. Problem: Chaos; Sin; Ignorance ...... 117 3. Reliance: Perseverance; Faith; Doubt ...... 119 4. Trust: Verification; Savior; Self-Nature ...... 120 5. Method: Experimentation; Prayer; Meditation...... 122 6. Truth: Evidence; Belief; Identification...... 124 7. Goal: Knowledge; Salvation; Vow...... 126 8. Conclusion: Evolution; Creation; Co-arising...... 128 (Quotes to come)...... 131 B. What is Zen ...... 131 Popular Zen...... 132 Zen versus Zazen...... 132 Coming to America...... 133 Basics of Zen...... 134 Three Minds of Zen...... 138 No Loss; No Gain...... 140 Meaningful...... 141 Simplicity...... 141 C. How Zen Works...... 143 Game Changer...... 143 Zen & Meditation...... 144 The Spice of Meditation...... 146 Empirical Concentration...... 148 Rinzai versus Soto...... 149 Kinds of Mindfulness...... 150 Objectless...... 151 Experiential Truth...... 152 Enlightened Unlearning ...... 152 Experimental Method...... 152 Quantity versus Quality...... 153 Being and Environment...... 154 Physical versus Spiritual...... 155 Holism and Budddhism...... 156 The Body Rules...... 156 Sensory Adaptation...... 157 Comfort Zone...... 158 Withdrawal...... 159 Persistence of Persistence...... 159 Terminal Normality...... 160 Abnormal Zazen...... 161 Meaningfully Purposeless...... 161

Samadhi as Method...... 161 Progressive Samadhi...... 163 D. Benefits of Zen ...... 165 Benefits of Zazen...... 165 Samadhi as Effect ...... 166 Making Sense ...... 170 Conceptual ...... 176 III. FUTURE...... 182 A. Toward a Rational Religion...... 182 What’s in an Adjective?...... 182 Belief Versus Theory...... 183 Toward a Rational Debate...... 183 The Why Question...... 184 Revelation versus Scripture...... 185 Religion versus Fear...... 186 The Big Picture...... 186 The Devil in Diversity...... 186 Peeks in the (Evangelical) Tent...... 188 Fundamental Meditation...... 188 Sanctity versus Sanctimony...... 190 Letter to a Nation...... 191 Religious Rationality ...... 193 B. Toward a Spiritual Science...... 194 Spirituality and Semantics...... 195 Religion vs Spirituality ...... 196 Belief in Science...... 196 Truth sans Proof...... 197 Religion Prizes Scientists...... 197 Science as Belief...... 198 Scale of Evidence...... 200 Do the Math...... 200 Watch Your Mouth...... 202 Subliminal Data...... 202 Self Survival...... 204 Body-Mind...... 204 Meditation and Science...... 205 Science of Meditation...... 207 Understanding Meaning...... 209 C. Intelligent Evolution ...... 211 ID Meets it Maker ...... 212 Slim Chance...... 213 Science of Design...... 214 Scopes Redux Recap...... 215 It’s All Over in Dover...... 217 Catholic Science...... 220

Holy Evidence...... 220 Political Science...... 221 ID Economics...... 223 Evolution of Intelligent Design...... 224 Wanted: God, Dead or Alive...... 226 Intelligence as Quotient...... 227 Design Sans Designer...... 228 Unintelligent Design...... 231 Perverse Design ...... 232 This Land is My Land...... 233 Irreducible Simplicity ...... 234 Survival of the Fit...... 234 What’s in a Word...... 235 Beginningless and Endless...... 236 Mind-Body Duality-Unity...... 237 Mind of Grass and Trees...... 238 Intelligent Intent...... 238 Animal Intelligence...... 239 Inhuman Intelligence ...... 239 Universal Intelligence...... 240 D. Future Perfect ...... 242 Treasure Hunt: Three Jewels...... 244 Meditate not Medicate: Four Noble Truths...... 245 Get Real: Five Skandhas...... 247 Prescription for Perfection: Six Paramitas...... 248 Precept or Preconception: Ten Grave Precepts...... 250 Birth, Death and Rebirth: Twelve-Fold Chain...... 258 Conclusion...... 260 Past as Prologue...... 260 The Old Frontier ...... 261 Present as Reality...... 262 The New Frontier...... 262 Awakening to Reality...... 263 Future as Potential...... 264 Zen is for You...... 264 APPENDIX...... 266 ...... 266 Soto Zen Liturgy...... 266 Daily Practice Verses...... 269 Appealing to the Middle...... 29

The overriding thesis of our text is that Zen offers a highly effective method for the reader to meet, head-on, the seemingly endless conflicts in personal and public life today. The indispensable method is Zen meditation (J. zazen). Zazen differs greatly from other meditations in its simplicity and directness, as well as its independence from doctrinal, psychological, and philosophical dogma. This makes it highly accessible to the Western mindset and lifestyle, an approach that anyone, anywhere, anytime, can adopt, without disruption to their daily life. Zen’s unique worldview comes directly from zazen practice. Zen theory and technique comprise a dynamic, at once spiritual and scientific, precisely poised at the center, between the extremes of materialist reductionism and religious fanaticism. It is apolitical in nature and application, as well. Direct insight, which follows naturally from assiduous engagement in zazen, and dispassionate analysis of the self, reveals Zen Buddhism’s revolutionary Middle Way out of the conflicts of personal, spiritual and political choice that we are faced with today. Zazen works by virtue of a natural process, accessible to all who are willing to make the effort, in spite of diverse backgrounds, circumstances, and lifestyle orientation. Its method, emphasizing direct, first-person experience, fosters a crystal-clear vision into our limited, dualistic ways of thinking and knowing. It offers the possibility of finding common ground, and guiding genuine dialogue, among all parties interested in finding constructive, collaborative ways to address contemporary social issues. As such, Zen methodology becomes a viable alternative to the increasing gridlock of diametrically-opposed worldviews, and intransigent attitudes, in critical areas of public and private life. It suggests a way around the hardening positions that arise between scientific and religious thinkers, especially regarding issues with high social and political stakes (e.g. evolution vs. intelligent design). Hopefully, this text will convince you who read it, of the personal potential of Zen, and encourage your application of its meditation to all three levels of experiential angst— physical, mental, and emotional—you may be suffering. We can virtually guarantee that this will redound to your profound benefit, if you adopt Zen practice. It is not to much to hope that Zen praxis, widely adopted, may even help to launch the inception, and further the progress, of true dialog in the larger community, toward a genuine resolution of perceived conflicts and, ultimately, world peace.

PAST IMPERFECT In the first section, PAST, we will cover relatively recent ground that may be familiar, but is worth repeating, in order to establish context for what follows. Selected aspects of the lore of Zen and Buddhism, which may be relatively unfamiliar, will be referenced, where pertinent to the practical point being made. The past is imperfect—it is what it is. We cannot go back and change it, at least not outside the bounds of science fiction. But we can, theoretically, learn from it. In planning yet another book about Zen, it is a given that it should not rehash the exhaustive corpus that has already been published on this inexhaustible subject. It should not be arcane, nor too abstract, nor so ungrounded in the pragmatic that its message

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 7 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion cannot be easily assimilated. The attempt here is to balance background with foreground, to be useful to you, in your assimilation of the meaning of Zen, in today’s social and cultural milieu. With this intent, we will touch upon the ostensibly important issues of the day, via documentation of the ongoing debate between proponents of conservative Christianity, i.e. Intelligent Design, and those of Science, i.e. Evolution. To a more limited extent, we will revisit the ancient past, sufficiently in depth as to establish clarity on Zen Buddhist teachings, but not so much as to belabor information that is widely available elsewhere.

PRESENT PERFECT The middle section, PRESENT, will address the equally imperfect nature of our contemporary life in the West. We will examine conventional wisdom, regarding religion and science, and will attempt to persuade you of the importance of the middle way of Buddhism, and the method of Zen. We will stress its appropriateness and potential effectiveness, in dealing with complex conundrums, from solid ground of practice. The present is not usually perfect, by any means, but like the perfect storm, fosters a sense of urgency in Zen. It is the only time in which we can take action, to affect the future. In Zen, the interface of free will and destiny exists precisely at the juncture of the present moment. Zen’s process is one of trial and error, always correcting our mistakes, never imagining that we have achieved a state of perfection, in the passing moment. It is possible, in this view, to alter future consequences stemming from present action, by changing that action. And even to mitigate consequences from the past. The urgent matter in Buddhism is that life is short; the opportunity that is represented by birth as a human being, fleeting. The present is not simply the hinge-point of past and future, but the only time in which we really live. It is the eternal moment, according to Zen, in which the present includes the past and the future. It is the gate to the Path, leading to the original, spiritual frontier trailblazed by Buddha some 2500 years ago.

FUTURE PLUPERFECT The third section, FUTURE, will entertain some hypothetical outcomes and their consequences for America, of the mainstreaming of Zen. The future is always potentially perfect, as it has not yet arrived. But, as the saying goes, we are doomed to relive history, if we do not learn from it. Any imagining of the future is speculative, of course. But the teachings of Buddhism are not. They are grounded in concrete reality, as we shall see. Exploration of what the nature might, be of a religion that is not irrational, and a science that is not strictly secular, will be followed by an analysis of the ostensible conflict between the concept of Intelligent Design (ID) and the theory of evolution. Ostensible, because the debate is clearly about advancing agendas that are far more prosaic, and the true source of conflict. Evolution and ID are merely proxies in this war. Lastly, we will engage in some speculation, imagining a future, utopian society, one based upon some of the fundamental principles of Buddhism. With the caveat, that without widespread meditation and personal transformation, such an enterprise would be doomed to certain failure. In other words, we are not promoting yet another impersonal, interesting but

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 8 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion inconsequential, new idea for reforming society. Instead, Zen offers a deeply personal, practical and simple way that you, the reader, can independently undertake the long-term process of personal reformation, without need for an intermediary savior; via a scientific method with short-term benefits to daily life, and implications for society at large. In Zen, we do not simply hope, and wait, for spiritual awakening to happen in the future. We place our effort and attention on the present moment, the only time in which we can actually take action. We, like Buddha, have been born with a human body, the necessary vehicle for spiritual awakening. By accepting the central truth of our own, primordial ignorance; taking the Zen posture of seated meditation; and surrendering to existential pain; thereby allowing a natural process of direct, unmediated insight to unfold in our own awareness; we can do as he did. Just as the body will secrete endorphins to numb pain, our body-mind will, slowly but surely, reveal the true nature of its own being. If we do as Buddha did, and don’t give up, we too can awaken. Just as we awoke from sleeping this morning, and clearly know the difference, we can wake up from this so-called waking state. And we will, just as surely, know the difference. Of course, waking up, requires giving up, what we already think we know; just as Buddha did. We must willingly enter a physical, mental and emotional frontier, one that is characterized by ambiguity and ambivalence. We cannot know, or explore, this frontier, based on what we think we already know. It requires a more creative approach. Zen is the heart of creativity. Creativity is sometimes defined as making the familiar strange. Through immersion in Zen meditation, everything changes; the familiar becomes strange, but in a good way. The doors of perception are cleansed, and we are able to see, hear and feel clearly again, not to mention think clearly, for the first time in memory.

Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind. — Einstein

It’s déjà vu all over again. — Yogi Berra

A. DEBATE? WHAT DEBATE?

The premise of this chapter is that the all-too-public debate that has reared its ugly head once again, this time billed as Intelligent Design (ID) versus Evolution, is not actually about science versus religion, as the two are not, fundamentally, at odds. The debaters have underlying, hidden agendas, that are not to be dignified by association with either religion or science. It is all about insidious fear, and secular power. But it will be instructive to judge it on its own merits. We will examine talking points used by each side against the other. But the crux of the debate, as framed, reduces to science’s skepticism regarding the insistence that an outside intelligence must design the universe, versus religious skepticism rejecting mere chance as a guiding principle of creation. It is understandable that each side objects to the other’s stereotyping of their viewpoint. Caricatured in 2-dimensional terms, each side is naturally skeptical of the other, with dialog ultimately devolving to mutual ridicule. But it is obvious to the casual observer that much of the public discourse functions as propaganda, meant to sway third parties, political or public, rather than as an honest attempt to convert the opponent by force of persuasion. Further, it is inflamed by economic self-interests of print and broadcast media, hyping the conflict. Rather than joining the melee, we want, instead, to recognize and respect the heartfelt urge to protect something, felt to be precious, on each side. There is, I suspect, a good dollop of underlying fear on both sides as well, and it is important to bring those fears to the surface. We hope to suggest that there is a middle way out of the wrangle, one that combines the best attributes of each position, but which is neither strictly religious nor scientific in the conventional sense. There is no reason the outcome cannot be a win-win. But it must begin with a re-examination of the personal world-view of the protagonists, willingly undertaken by them.

It’s Debatable Whether or not the proponents of the religious right, and those of science, can actually engage in a meaningful debate is, itself, debatable. The phrase it’s debatable usually indicates skepticism as to the truth of any assertion. Generally, adherents to a religious belief insist that it is not debatable. So they are not really interested in a debate that might prove them wrong. Scientists, on the other hand, feel there is not a debatable subject here, and that acceding to the proposition that there is, would lend undeserved credibility to the ID premise. To make matters worse, what is blithely billed as debate, these days, usually isn’t. The ongoing dispute over health care, or universal health insurance coverage; that over

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 10 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion the so-called financial system, or the Wall Street casino; and the wars in the Middle East, come to mind. These are examples of desperately important issues, at the level of literal life-and-death. But they are, willy-nilly, reduced to mud-slinging shouting matches, with a willful assist by the media. Why should a dispute between religion and science, though relatively innocuous by comparison, be any different? Rising to the level of inspired philosophy, in the hands of Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan during the Scopes Monkey Trial, the kerfuffle has resurfaced in more petty drag. While there are certainly more dire conflicts crying out for resolution, than whether God or chance is running the show, there are nonetheless deeply held beliefs on both sides, and potentially serious personal and social consequences, with much at stake in terms of outcomes, especially influence over control of the public school system. The ostensible premise—that science and religion are necessarily at odds—may have some relevance and utility in the social realm, but is fundamentally flawed on the personal level, which is where the resolution, or revolution, has to start. That individuals hold in mind two separate realms—one scientific, one spiritual—is akin to the bifurcation of reality into self and other. This is a fundamental and fraught mistake, according to Buddhism.

IT’S NOT DEBATABLE In Buddhism, the crucial issues in life are not who or what is in charge, but its basic impermanence, insubstantiality and imperfection, the unavoidable fact of universal suffering, or unsatisfactoriness of the given conditions of our existence. For sentient beings, these are usually summarized as aging, sickness and death, and are considered natural, and inevitable. But that doesn’t make them any more acceptable, especially to human beings. The kind of suffering that can come to an end, according to Buddhism, is that which is self- and mutually-inflicted. This is the kind witnessed in the so-called debate between vitriolic zealots of the more fundamentalist extremes of religion, and secularist extremes of science. Wielding the club of the self is at the root of all personal conflict, up to and including international disputes, and finally, waging of war. It is based on a misconception of the self as real and separate, and by extension, a conception of others as alien. Self-evidencing of the self is the source of the belief in soul, in Zen’s model, and, by extension, of a human-like God. The arguments and violence that follow from ego-self are like those of two cats, tails tied together, tossed over a clothesline by cruel boys. They tend to blame each other. I believe that there is a real, and important, interdisciplinary dialog, that is yet to be engaged. But no one could credibly argue that the public dialog, at least as published, has risen to the dignified level of debate. This is mainly because the deeper issues are obfuscated by politically- and economically-driven motives, resorting to greed- and fear- based propaganda to score points. Whatever you might feel about the genuineness or disingenuousness of the dialog, we can agree that it is symptomatic of underlying issues that are not likely to go away any time soon. Hopefully we can take a step toward exposing and engaging the real debate, and offering a middle way to resolve the relationship of evolution to ID, one that does not

COUCHING TERMS Defining terms is standard protocol for any debate. Herein, when the word religion is used, it represents the institution; spirituality refers to personal practice and insight, or personal religion. Science likewise has an institutional aspect, but here the term means to convey the spirit of open-minded inquiry, and an allegiance to evidence. Both rely on beliefs, either of the conventional, or of the religious, sort. The former require evidence, the latter do not. Zen offers a middle alternative, which we hope to come to appreciate, spiritual insight based upon empirical meditation, dependent upon first-person evidence for its authentication. Adherents of Zen Buddhism can readily relate to Einstein’s conflation of religion and science. His use of the term religion should probably be understood as an attitude of spirituality, and mystery, pervading his awareness, a personal intuition, rather than the societal institution. This is close to the Zen apprehension of the spiritual as nature, including one’s own nature. But it is not a form of animism, not a belief about reality. It is a conclusion, that the physical and the spiritual are not-two. In Zen, the method of meditation is regarded as scientific, in that it is experimental and open-ended. But its aim is spiritual, rather than pursuit of secular knowledge. A Zen Buddhist would ask, how—from the perspective of a complete and balanced worldview—could any serious analysis propose the opposition of spirituality and science? How could one discredit either, or make them mutually exclusive propositions? Of course, when religion takes a decidedly secular turn, as in the unholy marriage of church and state, it can hardly claim the mantle of spirituality. One conventionally-held view is that religious or spiritual pursuits are purely subjective, while scientific efforts are purely objective. A seemingly reasonable position, at first blush, but upon analysis, dualistically biased. The question of objectivity versus subjectivity is parsed into yin-yang duals by Dr. Albert Low:1

Subjective information can mean…influenced and biased by our wishes, emotions, desires, prejudices and theories, and these include our assumptions. Whenever a scientist works with unexamined assumptions… believing that they are the way things have to be, he is acting subjectively. When…I write about this kind of subjectivity I will use a lower case ‘s’. Subjectivity can also mean direct, unmediated knowing, without reason or cause…This is capital ‘S’ Subjectivity.

The usage of upper and lower case is a handy device to specify just what is meant by the terms chosen. Perhaps it would be useful to make a similar division of Religion versus religion, Science versus science; Belief versus belief, Evidence versus evidence, and so on. This approach would at least indicate that the parties to the debate recognize that they do not mean the same thing by the same terms. Dr. Low continues:

The word objective has two meanings as well. I will use a small ‘o’ to speak of the first. Information that is not biased by our personal wishes,

emotions, prejudices and theories is objective. The word…can also refer to knowledge based on information gathered initially by the senses (or extensions of the senses through instruments). Information that we get through this kind of Objectivity, with a capital ‘O’, is what is normally thought to be scientific information. The two meanings of both of these words are often confused.

Indeed. But confusion is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, its admission can be a form of humility, the starting point for an honest examination of our experience. According to my take on Zen, informed by a background in consumer research, there is no true objectivity. However, the idea of Objectivity has a stranglehold on the Western view of scientific endeavor:

Over the years scientists have gradually come to see that by using the Objective worldview alone we get greater control over the physical world…Then, because of the overwhelming technological success that this Objective worldview has given, they tend to claim that this is the only true worldview.

This is where science becomes the Religion of Science. Like all beliefs, it is destined to come up against its own limits, if we are open to new ideas, and pay sufficient attention:

Recent developments in quantum physics have shown that the Subjective, as the observer, is as essential as the Objective, what is observed, for something to happen. Quantum physicist Max Born…recalls his own shock as a young student when it dawned on him that all our perception and mental imagery…is entirely [S]ubjective…

We should approach the whole area of what is subjective, versus objective truth, with a good helping of humility. If we adapt the method of Zen, we observe, as objectively as possible, our subjective experience. This suggest a synthesis of the two -tivities, which are not really opposed.

SUBJECTIVE OBJECTIVITY Capital ‘S’ Subjectivity is the essential method of Zen—“direct, unmediated knowing, without reason or cause.” Zen’s Objective evidence—“information gathered initially by the senses (or extensions of the senses through instruments)”—is based on first-person experience garnered through long, direct study of consciousness in meditation. However, insight into the kind of truth that Buddhism points to requires transcendence of ordinary sense data. Its objective is precisely the kind of experiential insight that specifically is not “influenced and biased by our wishes, emotions, desires, prejudices and theories, and… our assumptions.”2 Professor Low shows that subjectivity and objectivity are extremely complex, and cannot be separated. He convincingly develops his thesis, that science cannot adequately account for the influence of knowing, and intention, on the evolution of human nature.

He further asserts that both science and religious endeavors are based on faith, faith versus Faith, respectively. In the former, faith in the rules of science—in the scientist’s own ability (as subject) to ferret out the truth (as object)—underpins scientific endeavor. Faith—in something beyond Objective Evidence—likewise, but differently, underpins Religion. The etymology of religion indicates a binding together. Science proceeds through analysis, which largely consists of taking things apart. But each endeavor also incorporates the opposite approach. Religion also divides (the sacred from the profane); science also unifies (the Periodic Table of Elements). Science and religion are similar, in that they are all-inclusive in their attempt to comprehend the universe, though their approaches are different. Low attributes this sameness, to the quest for unity, as the thread underlying both endeavors:

Unity lies beyond the subjective and the objective and plays a determining role in any theory. Monotheism, One God, is basic to the three Western religions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. The basis of most mystical experiences, out of which religions have grown, is a profound encounter with a basic unity. Most of the rules of science imply unity, and are based on faith in the idea that the world is one unbroken whole.

OBJECTIVE SUBJECTIVITY Master Eihei Dogen, founder of Soto Zen in Japan in the 13th Century, spoke of zazen in strikingly similar terms, “Zazen is a practice beyond the subjective and objective worlds, beyond discriminating thinking.”3 However, he was not speaking of theory, but direct experience. Zen does not reduce the final truth to all is one, but, “To come directly into harmony with this reality, just simply say, when doubt arises, ‘Not two.’ In this ‘not two’ nothing is separate; nothing is excluded”—attributed to Third Ancestor in China, Sengcan.4 Zen proceeds by questioning, rather than making, assertions. In Zen, the central distortion of reality, on the up-close and personal level, is the belief in an imputed self, one that is separate and apart from all else. From this one-sided view of reality flow all human problems, from one-on-one argument to world war. It is the fundamental fall from grace, alienation of the psyche from its natural, holistic home. Both science and religion have contributed, perhaps equally overall, to this conflicted worldview. Religion has often provided the rationale, science the technology, for inflicting unspeakable suffering on humanity, and other sentient beings. Either, science or religion, can be twisted into something no reasonable person would warmly embrace. But, assuming the possibility of a true religion (based on Subjective spirituality), and a true science (not limited to Objectivity), how could they be separate? How could one exist, without the other? The perceived conflict must arise on a more fundamental plane. Looking more closely at what debate could, or should, be, may yield some clues as to why the current dialog is at an impasse, and what might help to move it forward.

FORMAL DEBATE Formal debate is governed by rules, to ensure that the proceedings are conducted in an

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 14 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion orderly manner. According to the authors at www.parliament.gov:

Among others, these rules require that Members confine their speeches to the subject matter of the debate, observe the time limits imposed, and refrain from irrelevance, tedious repetition and use of offensive language.5

Well, what we witness in the media certainly cannot be dignified as a debate, then. Firstly, the subject matter as defined—opposing a belief in a person (Designer) to a theory of process (evolution)—sets up an irreconcilable pair, not a true opposition. From such a beginning, arguments on either side are doomed to defy common resolution. Secondly, repetition and offensive language have become the norm. There is no give and take. It reminds one of the Monty Python argument sketch: I paid for this argument; No you didn’t; O yes I did! ad absurdum.6 And there is no dearth of distortion, exaggeration, even outright lying, in the service of deeply held convictions. This is a clear violation of the rules of debate, as well as at least one of the five basic Precepts of Buddhism, Manifest truth—Do not speak falsely. But debate does not have to be deceptive, or motivated by selfish interests. It may be relevant to note that, mid-stream in the history of Buddhism in India, the 14th Patriarch, Nagarjuna, and his followers, engaged in earnest debate as a way of bringing about profound insight.7 The process of deconstructing an opponent’s worldview, philosophy or belief—demonstrating them to be self-contradictory, or based on faulty assumptions—was dedicated to bringing about positive existential crisis. This may have been the zenith in the history of debate. In the current milieu, which may be the nadir, on this model, insight would hopefully transpire for the identified loser. Would that were the goal.

VERBAL ABUSE One of the standard prescripts of honest debate is to clearly define any terms to be used. An unspoken assumption, in the current public exchange, is that the vocabulary in play is the vernacular, commonly understood and shared meanings. We naively presume that all parties mean the same thing by the same words. On cursory examination, this assumption falls apart. Much like the Objectivity/objectivity and Subjectivity/subjectivity of Dr. Low, the specific connotations intended are in no wise consonant, and need clarifying, if we wish to communicate clearly. Terms of this debate are not openly and honestly defined, as to specific shadings. Rather, usage is subverted to its effect on the public. With a Python-like wink-wink, nudge-nudge, code words are used to send signals, reinforcing and hardening positions, while pandering to a constituency. Thus the debate devolves to mere politics, preaching to the choir, and sabotaging the possibility of finding accord. Such usage, or misusage, is simply propaganda, not intended to serve the sake of clarity. Which is, or should be, the goal of any debate.

UNDEFINED EVIDENCE The word evidence is one of several invisible verbal elephants in the room, huddling in the corner with the others, such as theory, and belief. Evidence is defined as “the

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 15 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion condition of being evident,” according to the dictionary.8 This seems rather circular, and not usefully definitive; certainly insufficient to our purpose. Fortunately, the term evident is also defined on the same page, as “easy to see or perceive; clear; obvious; plain; apparent.” So far, it looks like ID folks, or a Texas school board, may have had a hand in writing this dictionary, rather than scientists. It goes on to discuss synonyms: “evident and apparent apply to that which can readily be perceived or easily inferred; but evident implies the existence of external signs and apparent suggests the use of deductive reasoning.” More scientific, that reference to deductive reasoning. Scientific evidence may be regarded as merely apparent, as opposed to proven, by this definition. Evidence is further defined as “something that makes another thing evident; sign… something that tends to prove; ground for belief.” Vaguely religious again, that ground for belief phrasing. So, religious belief may be taken to be evident. One comes smack up against the world that is apparent, versus a world that indicates something else, through signs. And yet, both are taken as evidence. There’s the rub. One of many, in this dog’s breakfast of definitions. One person’s evidence is another’s confusion—a myth, a fantasy—or worse, an outright lie. What one person takes to be evidence—proof of a belief, or of a theory— another person may have no awareness of, whatever. Or if aware, might refute it outright, as not meeting their personal definition of evidence. The term also has varying connotations on the street, as well as in the halls of justice. Evidence of the senses is notoriously undependable, as famously examined in the classic Japanese film, Rashomon.9 Ask any detective, or crime investigator: everyone experiences, and remembers, everything differently from everyone else. Testimony is biased evidence.

EVIDENTIARY CONFUSION Evidence is clearly of a different order, in the fields of religion and science. The same term has differing connotations, relevance—and vastly different tests of validity—for scientists versus creationists. ID proponents use evidence anecdotally, pointing to what they consider irreducible complexity in nature, as evidence of a creator. Thus, they co-opt the term to mean the opposite of scientific usage, to point to a supposed causality that precisely cannot be proven as evidence. The belief that they can intuit, conclusively and specifically, the existence of an Intelligent Designer, with no need to demonstrate proof that would pass the test of a reasonable person, does not amount to evidence. Religious usage would constitute the Subjective form of evidence, scientific the Objective, Evidence, in Dr. Low’s formulation. Scientists can be criticized for presenting evidence as irrefutable, in that it is completely objective, as if there were no subjectivity involved in its recognition. Most scandals in laboratory science stem from this kind of tunnel-vision, sometimes fueled by larceny and ethical lapses. Science defines evidence technically, requiring comparable results from independent observers, and refutes claims devoid of such peer review. Which is why those pesky scientists keep pointing out the paucity of evidence for the existence of a Creator, whether intelligent or dumb as a post. In Science, the proof of the theory pudding is in the taste of hard evidence, its ability

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 16 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion to predict measurable outcomes in real-world tests. Hard evidence is cited to bolster scientific theories. But it is strictly limited, to the impersonal, and measurable, realm. The so-called soft sciences seem to land somewhere in-between, on the evidence spectrum. In the debate, it would be good to define, clearly, the specific kind of evidence being cited by either side, to support or dispute their claims. This greatly challenges the ID side, more than it does the Science side, which is accustomed to playing by these rules.

THEORY IN FACT This term has been relatively well vetted in the press, so we will not dwell upon it here. Most thinking people now understand that a theory, such as evolution by natural selection, is not “just a theory, not a fact,” as the ID side insists. Religion holds fact to be inerrant and unchanging, trumping theory. But a theory trumps fact, in science, gaining credibility from its ability to explain many, and sometimes disparate, facts. We are reduced, perforce, to differentiating fact from Fact.

I BELIEVE Belief is used colloquially in science, as in the fact that a scientist may believe the theory of evolution to be valid and substantiated, yet does not “believe in evolution” as Fact, for example. Belief in God, as an intelligent force behind creation, does not depend on evidence; it is presupposed to be a Fact. Creationists might insist that ample evidence is all around—for those who have the eyes to see—of course. Evidence of so-called higher truths—in religion as well as philosophy—is limited to the realm of personal, intuitive insight, unquantifiable knowledge, or a kind of persuasion, quasi-logical, even irrational. The word belief is often tantamount to the whole of the religion; the terms are interchangeable. “What do you believe?” is the central leitmotif. Belief is a kind of litmus test, determining who belongs to our sect, who is to be saved, versus who is doomed. Belief is bandied about, as if there were no difference in what the two sides believe it actually means. The formulation “Do you believe in evolution?” is a dead giveaway, that the questioner, reliably, does not.

MEDIATE THE DEBATE The Media have a financial, and often partisan, stake in keeping the debate, any debate, alive. And zero incentive to achieve resolution. Turning to the public dialog, with an expectation of progress, is asking for disappointment. A few selections from the media may make the point. According to Mike King, a member of the editorial board of the Atlanta Journal Constitution (AJC), under the heading Religion off limits, thanks to extremists, the American audience should be capable of seeing through the madness:10

There is an inherent sensibility within most Americans, I believe, that makes us capable of understanding the difference between proselytizing, preaching, politicking and teaching. Sadly, we have pushed our sensibilities aside in recent years because many of us find it uncomfortable to talk about religion—especially Christianity—even in private among friends. Such reluctance also gives rise to extremes. Many Christians, for

instance, are convinced that secularists want to diminish their beliefs and use the schools to indoctrinate anti-Christian values. So they create false controversy over whether teaching evolution in science classes diminishes the practice of their faith. On the other end of the spectrum, many secularists are quick to pounce on prayer in public places, straining their credibility by claiming any and all references to Jesus in such settings are coercive and oppressive. They would have us believe that there is a bright line written into the First Amendment that prohibits proclamations of faith in public forums. We know where the line is and when it is crossed…. But when we decline to participate in the debate because we suspect the motives of those who disagree with us, the extremists rule the day.

As Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart famously said about obscenity, we know it when we see it, even if we cannot define it. Likewise with scientific and religious claims. It is the proselytizing and politicking that get in the way of progress, not the argument itself. Perhaps the suspicions harbored by Christians and secularists about each other are justified. “We can’t go on together, with suspicious minds.”11 Truer words… A couple of Buddhist Precepts point to a different approach: See only your own faults; do not discuss the faults of others.12 We can, of course, discuss the behavior and views of others without seeing, or characterizing, them as faults. But it is not easy. Do not praise yourself at others’ expense13 is another, which, if religiously or scientifically observed by the debaters, would put an entirely different slant on the discourse. Of course, motives are not the only thing we may regard with suspicion. We can also, for example, distrust the competency, commitment, and judgment of another, not to mention simple honesty. In an open, honest debate, opponents have to trust at least some of these traits, in good faith. Otherwise, no debate worthy of the name is possible.

MEDIA MADNESS A major reason that deeper motives remain unexamined, is that they are difficult to articulate. Moreover—anathema to the media—they would not make good copy. Resolution of conflict is not as exciting as the conflict itself. It does not feed the media’s appetite for controversy. It is not news to anyone, that news media seek out and publish material, in which conflict is inherent. Or failing that, gin up conflict where there is none. The worst-case example is the daily anger orgy passing itself off as talk (rant) radio. Not that there is not plenty of reason to be angry these days. The Buddhist Precept Actualize harmony—do not indulge in anger,14 does not suggest that one should never feel anger, but that one should stop short of indulging in it. Note the positive emphasis on actualizing harmony, by avoiding acting, and speaking, out of anger. How would that play, coming from the rant radio masters, who virtually wallow in anger, and make a lucrative living from it? The somewhat more reserved, televised talking heads, are scarcely less addicted to anger, finding fault, gossip, and fear-mongering. This is one of many reasons the news business is in historically low regard, along with its main content-provider, politics. It

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 18 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion obsessively accentuates the negative, as Mark Bazer writes in the editorial section of the AJC:

In its latest defense of the war in Iraq, the Bush administration is blaming the mainstream media for not accentuating the positive… But, look, it’s a known fact that the members of the media in this country are all sniveling, misanthropic, balding lowlifes who only wish ill on people, with the exception of me and the people to whom I directly report. And so now…it’s worth reminding the president that the media, during wartime or not, unfortunately always emphasize the negative.

This, along with death and taxes, hasn’t changed with the advent of the new Obama administration, the winning campaign theme of which, change, presumes a more positive direction. We are all anger junkies, apparently, or it would not be selling so well. Why not wage a War on Anger?

FACT OR FICTION Emphasizing the negative is the most natural, and effective, way to promote conflict. It is telling, in this regard, that happy, unconflicted fictional tales usually don’t sell. Unless the author develops conflict, the dynamic tension that drives the story line, it’s a flop, or at best a yawn. The arc from conflict to resolution drives the plot of any good movie, drama, perhaps any life, imitating art. Predictably, any story that gets media exposure will generally promote the idea, fictional or true, that there is a real, interesting and exciting, urgent and important, conflict at hand; and one that must be resolved. But it is not in the interests of the media to actually resolve any conflict. To make things immeasurably worse, almost hopeless—recalling another mantra of the Obama campaign, hope—media today are comprised of the very entertainment- business-political-military-industrial conglomerates that most directly benefit, politically and economically, from promoting conflict, real as well as imaginary. They have corporate axes to grind, as well as ads and merchandise to sell. The result is a political sideshow, where conflicts and debates are whipped up, and staged for short-term tactical gain, in a long-term strategic war.

IDEAS AT WAR This war of ideas is waged over competing visions of society, which remain largely inarticulate, or at least not widely articulated in the media. If the media mavens were objective, and if they did not have a bias favoring conflict, they would give equal time to serious comparison, and resolution, of opposing ideas. This is one reason why traditional media are losing ground to interactive technology, i.e. the Internet and Worldwide Web, which are much more difficult to bend to the prerequisites of propaganda. The downsides, which are surely coming, have yet to fully emerge. The most pernicious aspect of bias in the obsolescent media, one which exacerbates and plays into the hands of divide-and-conquer politics, is captured by James Wolcott,

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 19 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion writing about the re-emergence of the documentary film as a force in forming public perception of reality:15

Fear is the animating force in Bowling for Columbine and Fahrenheit 9/11, the juice that powers the political grid. Both films analyze and illustrate how fear is fed into our diet of news and entertainment, climate- controlled, manipulated for political advantage, fermented into paranoia, and vented through small- and large-scale lashings of violence. The shooting spree in the high-school cafeteria and the bombing of distant palm-treed villages are products of the same manufactured pathology. Fear has militarized the American mind, set up occupation, made the country literally and figuratively gun-crazy. We’ve become prisoners of our fortress mentality, some of us passive receptors for scare talk and terror alerts, others trying to tunnel their way out to the truth. This fortress mentality keeping us passive and squirrelly is outlined in the new documentary Why We Fight…

Mr. Wolcott goes on to explain: “The key scripture in Why We Fight is President Eisenhower’s prophetic warning in his 1961 farewell address about the menace of what he termed the ‘military-industrial complex.’” So here we have manufactured fear, on top of natural fear. No wonder that fear also underlies and animates the debate between adherents of religion and science. This is, hopefully, becoming obvious to greater portions of the populace, as blatant manipulation, as Mr. King hopes, captured in the mocking expression, Be afraid; be very afraid! Unfortunately, it seems to work, every time an election cycle comes around. With the possible exception of Obama’s victory. Or perhaps that was simply the result of a different kind of fear. We will see. It will be necessary, in order to find solutions to the ongoing catastrophe that is the American Dream, to separate such ginned-up hysteria from more reasonable fears. Revising FDR’s famous WWII statement, the only thing we have to fear is fear of fear itself. In Zen, fear is a natural reaction to the true conditions of existence. It comes with the territory of life, and must be confronted directly, rather than indulging the tendency to blame others. If a majority of folks could do so, fear-mongering would die a richly deserved death.

WHY DEBATE? It can be argued that no debate between science and religion is necessary, worthwhile, or likely to be productive. A truce is the best we can hope for; let sleeping dogs lie. In an essay suggesting such coexistence, William J. Broad ties the current conflict to an ancient mystery:16

It may seem that the longstanding war between science and religion is entering a new phase: Darwin versus intelligent design, religious opposition to stem cell research, Western secularism versus Islamic

fundamentalism. All around we see growing tensions between the scientific demand for truth through reason and experiment, and the religious desire for consolation and revealed truth. What seems like a clear trend, however, misrepresents the underlying reality…the truth is that science and spirituality, rather than addressing similar ground, speak to very different realms of human experience, and, at least in theory, have the potential to coexist in peace, complementing rather than constantly battling each other.

While one has to agree with Mr. Broad’s statement, that science and spirituality speak to different realms of human experience, and so should coexist in peace, it cannot be denied that both are motivated by human needs that cannot be neatly compartmentalized into spiritual versus scientific. For example, physical needs for nutrition, warmth, et cetera, must first be met, in order to enable the approach the higher (spiritual) needs as defined by Maslow.17 Hunger is not only physical, but also a spiritual problem. It can cause people to violate laws, or Precepts, so egregiously that such behavior would otherwise be unthinkable. Hunger is not always biological, but a lack of psychic nourishment, as well. Rapprochement of science and religion will require articulation of such needs, and which are most appropriately met by one or the other of the two fields, before any progress can be seen on the experiential level. That is, like hunger, spiritual craving will not be satisfied with a new social contract, or by simply declaring a truce. Broad’s point that science and spirituality, while independent, can complement each other, is illustrated by an unusual, ancient example:

The recent discoveries of a renegade four-member team of scientists illustrate how the two realms are quite independent. They found the truth behind the Oracle of Delphi’s legendary powers, showing how the most influential figure of ancient Greece prepared for ecstatic union with Apollo. The scientists, analyzing the Delphi region and the god’s temple, discovered tons of bituminous limestone down below, its layers rich in intoxicating gases. The scientists’ triumph, however, did little to pierce the Oracle’s veil, as [they] were quick to acknowledge. They claimed no insights into how her utterances stood for ages as monuments of wisdom. They had no explanation for how the priestess inspired Socrates, or the seeming reliability of her visionary pronouncements. In short, the scientists, while solving a major riddle of antiquity, wisely left other mysteries untouched.

This incident of scientific sleuthing supports Zen’s criticism of the discriminating mind, captured in the Zen aphorism of the futility of the hand trying to grasp itself. It can grasp anything else, but not the hand doing the grasping. The scientist representing measurements of brain activity as reading the mind, the religious person representing prayer as knowing the mind of God, represent the same reach-exceeding-grasp syndrome. Notably, the renegade team here modestly stops short of claiming to answer the over- reach question, of how mere intoxication of the Oracle resulted in reliable prophecy. This highlights a nettlesome limitation of science, the difficulty of dealing with phenomena of

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 21 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion mind, or consciousness. While science may converge more and more closely upon the mystery of life and human consciousness itself, it seems the answer is a rainbow, forever moving just out of reach. The last gap must be closed by something other than scientific measurement. An old saying in Zen declares that Baskets and cages can’t reach it.18 There is something that is accessible to direct experience, but beyond the ability of concepts and constructions, however sophisticated, to capture or contain—to measure—it. This it (J. inmo) is what is pointed to, in Zen. Mr. Broad then points out that religious adherents are not the only actors that are capable of zealotry, in the pursuit of higher truth:

The modesty of the Delphic investigation stands in contrast to some of the world’s top scientists and their champions, who have claimed that science can answer questions far beyond the usual realm of physical phenomena, such as puzzles of religion, culture, ethics and, most important because of their centrality to the rest, mind and consciousness. Some evolutionary theorists argue that religion works because it fosters beliefs that aid the struggle for survival, not because it is true.

Scientists enter upon a slippery slope, when their findings convince them they are seeing beyond how things work, to why they are, as they are. This amounts to the religion of science, provoking one understandable fear of the other side: that the secular could come to supplant the spiritual, discounting any truth outside of the quantifiable. That everything, every phenomenon in nature, as well as in the machinations of humankind, must be reducible to survival, is also highly questionable, more belief than fact.

PRECEPTS OF SCIENCE While it may be unfair to characterize science as a belief system in itself, it is surely true that its adherents operate on certain precepts. Thus, organized religion and science have at least one thing in common—both have precepts. A case could be made that everyone, in any field of endeavor, is guided by precepts, conscious or not. The term precept comes from the Latin praecapere—prae meaning “before,” capere “take.”19 Precepts comprise views that we harbor, and carry into any given experience. Like a religious belief, one that is held to be true, they are not just concepts. Such precepts can interfere with perception, causing us to overlook, or dismiss, evidence to the contrary. In Buddhism, this would amount to a kind of delusion. This is why Zen goes beyond—does not depend upon—perception. A precept is something that is believed in, a priori. It carries a feeling of certainty, or a sense of confidence that it is at least provisionally true. Precepts are not always fully conscious, and may simply be hardened preconceptions, presumptions. In the case of science, they are, or should be, always subject to revision, based on pending evidence. In religion, they are relatively fixed as deep beliefs, which are not easily revised. In Buddhism, its Precepts are more like the former. They are subject to experience in daily life, where their true meaning is eventually revealed. One central leitmotif of evolution science touched on by Mr. Broad—the tendency to

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 22 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion explain all successful traits based solely on their survival value—is tantamount to a precept. Reducing any and all sentient phenomena to a primal quantum of survival value, in itself amounts to a belief. Maybe not technically religious, but close enough for jazz. Evidence to support the survivalism theory as valid in every case, e.g. the final purpose of religious behavior, is necessarily infinite, and therefore not quantifiable. Reductionist, and simplistic, perhaps, but not scientific. Reductio ad absurdum is not scientific. That the raison d’etre of all biological phenomena can be reduced to one supreme necessity is an idea that many would associate with religious fanaticism. In science, the view of survival as primary may have become an obsession, one that forecloses all other possibilities. Certain altruistic behaviors in animals, for example, seem clearly unconnected to species-favoring survival traits, such as when a female dog nurses a litter of kittens. One case that I know of that argues the other way, is that of a mother cat who nursed a baby opossum along with her litter. At a certain point in its growth, she killed the Opossum pup, apparently demonstrating a survival trait to her kittens. Birds of a feather. Broad goes on to quote, as examples of over-reaching, Daniel C. Dennett, professor of philosophy at Tufts University, who “likens spiritual belief to a disease,” whose grip on humanity can best be explained by “psychology, philosophy and history”; and Edward O. Wilson, who argues that “all tangible phenomena…are based on material processes that are ultimately reducible…to the laws of physics.” Zen would argue that the laws of physics, along with the manifestations of biology, are co-arisen, interdependently engaged in a cosmic dance of cause and effect. There need be no meaningful hierarchy of priority, or precedent, amongst the various phenomena that humans may infer, or prefer. This is not chaos, but recognition of a higher order, a complementary order. Survival, yes, but applied to the insentient, as well as the sentient. The attempt to reduce matter to a fundamental particle has lead to a similar impasse. Those pesky virtual particles. The fault is not with nature, but with the observer: operator error.

OXYMORONIC ARROGANCE From the perspective of Zen, the expression spiritual belief would be oxymoronic. Buddhist spirituality is instead freedom from belief, in the religious sense. Spiritual belief, as synonymous with religion, can no doubt be scientifically studied, from psychological, philosophical, and historical perspectives. But the central experience of spirituality, of unmediated consciousness itself, is currently inaccessible to the methods of science. How perception, and conception, work, is somewhat amenable to testing and analysis, as well as measurement. But what mind, consciousness itself, is, is not. Depends on what the definition of is is, to quote our etymological past POTUS. My teacher referred to this focus of Zen, the self studying the self, as something round and rolling, slippery and slick.20 Like a wet bar of soap, as soon as we try to grasp it, it pops out of our grasp. This is the so-called hard problem of philosophy—a phrase coined by philosopher David Chalmers , the “really hard part of the mind-body problem”21—that of grasping, and explaining, consciousness itself. Broad adds arrogance to zealotry, in his admonition to those who would fall sway to

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 23 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion the religion of science, noting that there was originally considerable common ground, in early scientific and religious endeavors:

Such views [science can answer questions…as puzzles of religion, culture, ethics] are more hope than fact, as the best theorists concede, and can exhibit a kind of arrogance. For its part, organized religion has for centuries found means of accommodation, approval and even support for science to leaven its sometime resistance. The early Roman Catholic Church adapted cathedrals across Europe to serve as solar observatories. Muslims of the Middle Ages pioneered the forerunners of optics and algebra.

Today’s scientific, atheistic or agnostic skeptic might argue that the conflation of science and spirituality, in worldviews of former times, reflects a kind of naiveté, inferior to today’s science of much less simple times. Science’s worldview of today may, indeed, be sophisticated in many ways. But presuming that it is in all ways superior to the past, is as hubristic as assuming that the USA is the greatest country on earth, without bothering to travel to other countries. Positing an arc to history—evolving to ever-more enlightened, humane levels of civilization, and culminating in the utopia of today—suffers from the fact that no one making such a claim ever lived in the past. Or if they did, do not clearly remember it. Not to mention that today hardly qualifies as a utopia. Buddhism posits that, in a sense, those living today did live in the past; that this life is one in a series of rebirths. And it does propose a kind of evolution of mind, culminating in awakening to the Wisdom Mind. But this evolution is not dependent upon a God to direct it, nor upon the findings of science to foster it. The great achievements of humankind may, however, be seen as byproducts of the evolution of mind. Buddha’s awakening presages the potential awakening of all humankind, hopefully ushering in a new Axial Age, broader and deeper than that of his time. Let’s hope so. Finally, Broad gives some statistical perspective on a commonality, all too often portrayed as a black-and-white schism, between people of science and people of religion:

Today, roughly 40 percent of scientists believe in a God who actively communicates with humankind and to whom one may pray in expectation of answers—hardly a mob of atheists. The scientists who make sweeping metaphysical claims may represent a vocal minority. But hubris and celebrity are a potent mix, and threaten to intensify a cultural war that need not be.

Whether one finds it comforting, or disturbing, to learn that such a significant percentage of professional scientists believe in a personal god, it raises inconvenient questions. It is a challenge to the rationalist community of aggressive secular doctrinarians. Yet it does not magically transform the 40 percent into odd bedfellows of faith-based creationists. It depends, again, upon what they actually mean by God. If this God is the innate, spiritual nature of the human being, writ large—or a metaphor for the intuitive, subconscious mind; which through internal prayer, seems to help scientists find answers in their work —the argument may be largely semantic.

From a Buddhist perspective, this question would probably be regarded as a moot point, whether or not God exists. It depends upon what one means by God, and by exist. The issue in Zen is not whether something exists or not, but how it exists. It, everything, exists by dint of impermanence, the ever-changing dynamic of all existence. This would include the existence of God. In an oversimplified turn of a phrase, if anything is God, everything is. In other words, transcending the separation between the sacred and the mundane, the idea of God becomes a head upon a head,22 to quote an old Zen expression: extra, superfluous.

SCIENTIFIC INTELLIGENCE Most scientists reportedly have opted to avoid engagement in this particular debate, in order not to lend credibility to the idea that ID is actually debatable. Their involvement, the reasoning goes, would be subject to spin, by their opponents. It might be twisted into an unwanted, inadvertent acknowledgement, of scientific legitimacy. By now, all who have been paying attention are well aware of the political and personal agendas behind public invitations to debate. There is vested—if not enlightened—self-interest, on both sides. The religious side stands to gain politically by promoting the debate, while the science side stands to lose, politically, economically, and professionally as well, as things now stand. With change in the administration in Washington, the playing field is shifting once again, but the teams are also retrenching. The pendulum continues to swing. In the interest of fairness and balance, Professor Daniel J. Dennett asks:23

Is “intelligent design” a legitimate school of scientific thought? Is there something to it, or have these people been taken in by one of the most ingenious hoaxes in the history of science? Wouldn’t such a hoax be impossible? No. First, imagine how easy it would be for a band of naysayers to shake the world’s confidence in quantum physics—how weird it is—or Einsteinian relativity. Fortunately for physicists, there is no powerful motivation for such a band of mischief-makers to form. They don’t have to spend much time persuading people that quantum physics and Einsteinian relativity really have been established beyond all reasonable doubt. With evolution, however, it is different. The fundamental scientific idea of evolution by natural selection is not just mind-boggling; natural selection, by executing God’s traditional task of designing and creating all creatures great and small, also seems to deny one of the best reasons we have for believing in God. So there is plenty of motivation for resisting the assurances of the biologists. Nobody is immune to wishful thinking. It takes scientific discipline to protect ourselves from our own credulity, but we’ve also found ingenious ways to fool ourselves and others.

Here, Dennett is playing on underlying fears, on the religious side. Unquestioning belief, in an unphysical, intelligent, and engaged designer (Creator) of the physical world, underpins theism in a tangible way. Without it, the edifice of (their) established religion

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 25 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion comes tumbling down, around their feet. Of course, the odds are stacked in favor of the house. It is impossible to disprove the existence of God. Ergo, it is rather illogical to fear that acceptance of evolution would do so. Of course, fear, like faith, is not logical. It would be helpful, in furthering détente, if religious proponents could fess up to this fear, and see where that kind of forthrightness takes the discussion. Perhaps their candor might, in turn, elicit a candid expression of fears motivating the science side. Fear may be the common ground; and certain of the fears may be common, though feared for different reasons. A debate can be fruitful, only if and when there is a possibility of common ground. It can be resolved if one side can convince the other of the fallacies of their premises, by sheer force of persuasion, or with irrefutable evidence. There’s that tricky word again. What kind of evidence would the religious side need, in order to trust the agenda of science? What kind of evidence would reassure scientists, that the religious agenda does not dictate their marginalization? Humility evaporates in the heat of public debate. It is not likely that self-criticism will emerge under the klieg lights. As in couples’ counseling, when the parties to the conflict cannot admit to their own complicity in nurturing the dispute, they cannot do anything to resolve it. When one side acts in a certain way, the other always reacts in a predictable way as well, and so the vicious cycle continues, with each side blaming the other. It is only when one, or both, can step off of the merry-go-round, that the middle way, a third alternative, can be seen. This middle way is what Zen offers. But it begins with self-examination, in meditation. Zen counsels that each side confront, head-on, their own fears, follies and foibles. Only if the protagonists can honestly assess the limits of their own vision, can accommodation of the other point of view come about. But this needs to occur off-line, out of the glare of publicity.

PUBLIC POLARIZATION Letters to the editor, and guest columns, are usually one-sided, and at face-value, typically shed more heat than light, on the subject. Serendipitously, a trio of letters published simultaneously capture a balanced snapshot, of opinion from the extremes, along with a plea from the middle:24

Theory of evolution undermines Bible Those who promote the sole teaching of evolution in our public schools are admitting that they are afraid to allow the consideration of any alternative. They acknowledge that exposing our children to an alternative would raise questions they cannot answer. They know that evolution will fall apart under the searchlight of truth. Darwin’s theory of evolution is intended to disrupt and undermine the holy Scriptures of the Bible, which this nation was founded upon. If the evolutionists are so thoroughly convinced, then why are they afraid to allow our children to hear challenges to their theory? This is denying freedom of speech. Our God- fearing, Christian population should stand up and defeat this atheistic, destructive, false doctrine. L. S. Jr.

Science no threat to our freedom Attacks on science and the scientific method are foolhardy and counterproductive; evolution theory is clearly sound and does not preclude or exclude religious belief of any kind. There’s no legion of anti-religious bigots and secular ideologues out there conspiring to foist evil upon innocent Christian children. But isn’t it wonderful to rail against imagined foes – the media, an imaginary war on Christmas, an imaginary threat from Galileo, Newton, Darwin and Einstein. It’s interesting, too, how many people profit, psychologically as well as financially, from creating dissension. Maybe we need to look more carefully at where the real threats to our freedom lie, and identify and question our superstitions. Otherwise, our imagined fears may manifest deeper and darker battles between us. Divide, and be conquered. R. O’B.

Middle ground deserves more attention I don’t understand why evolution vs. intelligent design has to be a black- and-white issue. As a Christian, I have talked to my children about evolution and God’s role. Isn’t it possible God created it? Why are school districts spending millions of dollars fighting this? Teach evolution at schools, let the parents explain its origins further and let’s spend our money and time finding good teachers and better ways to help our children learn. S. S.

The pugilistic stance of the first writer incites to action (stand up and defeat); the second displays a snide cynicism toward the other side, (isn’t it wonderful to rail against imagined foes…interesting, too, how many people profit) typical of the debate; the third seems remarkably balanced in pleading for sanity. It is a revealing semantic exercise to flip the spin in the first letter, illustrating that the righteous rant-and-rave style of argument can serve either debate team equally well:

Those who promote the sole teaching of creationism in our public schools are admitting that they are afraid to allow the consideration of any alternative. They acknowledge that exposing our children to an alternative would raise questions they cannot answer. They know that creationism will fall apart under the searchlight of truth. The holy Scriptures of the Bible are intended to disrupt and undermine Darwin’s theory of evolution, which this nation[’s education] was founded upon. If the creationists are so thoroughly convinced, then why are they afraid to allow our children to hear challenges to their theory? This is denying freedom of speech. Our scientific, evidence-based population should stand up and defeat this God- fearing, Christian, false doctrine.

Invective, from either side, does not help matters much. As self-serving, political and economic forces continue to push for confrontation, and the media gleefully rush to pile on, shrillness of tone can be expected to reach and sustain hysterical proportions—and not of the humorous sort.

MIDDLE GROUND Middle ground is not the same as common ground. Either—middle or common ground, may be impossible to find. Doing so, calls for a great deal of humility, and is not nearly as hot-blooded fun, as is engaging the battle. Common ground is one element that is clearly missing in the public debate, and the middle ground is not in focus. Common ground implies that there is an overlap, where science and religion share turf, with traits or interests in common. This proposition is resisted by rationalists. It is promoted by religionists, as it lends credibility to their claim to credentials for setting the agenda of public education. Rationalists push for compartmentalization, erecting insurmountable walls around domains. Religionists push for parity, that both systems are theoretical in nature, equally valid. Middle ground may ultimately exist as a balkanized area, where tenets of religion and science can coexist, without staking claim to each other’s bailiwick. This idea may be applicable to the debate between science and religion. The intent here is to bear down on what’s wrong and expose it, as opposed to attempting to fix it, or to win. A win-win. Through a true dialectic—“the art or practice of examining opinions or ideas logically…so as to determine their validity”—perhaps the debate can rise to the level of objectives expressed in Hegel’s Dialectic:25

…based on the principle that an idea or event (thesis) generates its opposite (antithesis) leading to a reconciliation of opposites (synthesis).

Such a reconciliation is much to be desired, even if the competing theses of religion and science are not truly in opposition. We are presenting Zen as the new antithesis, appearing on the horizon, overlooking the opposition of science and religion, the existing thesis. But a new synthesis requires that the apparent opposites be subsumed, in a new unity. A third new thing, that is not to be found in either antipode of the existing thesis, but arises only from the synergistic merging of the extremes. The synthesis is greater than the sum of the two parts. A handy device, for detecting common ground in apparent disparities, is to replace a mindset of either/or with that of both/and. The former is characteristic of Western analytical thinking, the latter more typically Eastern, though this may be evolving. For example, rather than our attitude and activities being either scientific or spiritual, entertaining the notion that they may be both spiritual and scientific. In this dialectic, and the potential synthesis to which it might give birth, it is no contradiction to construe reality as both creation and evolution. Creation does not require a creator, either inside or outside. This constitutes the middle ground, rather than common ground. Zen goes beyond this, all the way to the uncreate26, the source of creation which, by definition, is not, itself, created. The uncreate, however, is not a being, not a god. Its being is the creation, the whole universe.

APPEALING TO THE MIDDLE Extremists on either end of the spectrum have zero interest in resolving this dilemma, as do the middlemen who profit from it. It is to the great middle of the bell curve that we

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 28 of 270 INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION: Zen’s Middle Way Between Science & Religion must turn. Being neither a religious scholar (thank God for that), nor a scientist (thank math for that), I realize that the present text is unlikely to sway anyone at the fringes. While there are real differences between opponents at extremes of religion and science, it must be a big lie that there is no common ground, no middle ground, possible. And we know what they say about the big lie; repeat it often enough, and it becomes the truth. In order to explore the possibility that there is common ground, however, we must find a third, middle way, outside of the existing polarization. We must work to find similarities, the necessary complement to the stated differences. To that end, we must examine the underlying motives. What are anti-evolutionists trying to defend? What are anti-creationists afraid of? Could the labels be obscuring similar, understandable fears and hopes, even complementary visions of the ideal world? A middle ground, between evidence and faith, is needed in order to envision the harmonic future of religion and science, in this society. It will be achievable by an open, honest discussion of real differences, and underlying anxieties, rather than what is at stake in this immediate election, or news, cycle. At a time when vast and rapid social changes are ratcheting up the pressure, the point at which resolution becomes an absolute necessity, is nigh. Owing to the uncompromising stance of the present parties to the dispute; as well as the growing complexity, and interdependent nature, of issues facing today’s generation; it may be too late. The boomer generation, especially, faces grave doubts about the future, and the tenor of this tired argument is only adding to the angst.

In this chapter we make the assertion that science and religion, or better, science and spirituality, are not really at odds, though the proponents of right-wing Christianity, and left-wing science, may be. True science, and true religion, are in several aspects, versions of each other, for example finding common ground in the basic, human need to know. The debate is revved up from time to time, in order to benefit its opponents and sponsors. Preaching to their respective choirs and constituencies, it often deteriorates into job justification. In large part, the so-called war of ideas functions as a proxy war, for unseen profiteers. It is an unfortunate and costly distraction, to getting on with the real work, to address the challenges the world faces today. In the next chapter, the ostensible subject of the ongoing debate—evolution versus ID —will be more closely examined, overlayed on the bigger picture of Church and State. Positions preached by the established church, as well as those promoted by government, will be treated as imminently debatable. Again, we will defend the same assertion: that intelligence and evolution are not truly at odds, any more than true spirituality and true science are. That, in fact, they are inseparable. And that Zen offers the central method, zazen, for the opponents, and failing that, for at least the rest of us, to see through all the obfuscation, to the root of the conflict.

Copyright 2010 Taiun M. J. Elliston. All rights reserved. Page 29 of 270 1 Dr. Albert Low, The Origin of Human Nature 2 Ibid., p. 26. 3 Yokoi and Victoria, trans. A Universal Recommendation for Zazen (New York; Weatherhill, 1990) p. 46. 4 Trans. R. B. Clarke, Hsinhsinming 5 See: www.parliament.gov 6 See: The Argument Sketch, From “Monty Python’s Record,” www.mindspring.com/mfpatton/sketch.htm 7 See: Jeffrey Hopkins, Meditation on Emptiness (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1996). 8 Webster’s New World Dictionary of the American Language, Second College Edition (New York: Simon & Shuster, 1984) p. 486. 9 See: Rashomon (1950) Directed by Akira Kurosawa, with Toshiro Mifune, Machiko Kyo, Masayuki Mori 10 Mike King, Religion off limits, thanks to extremists (AJC, January 26, 2006) p. A19 11Elvis Presley, Suspicious Minds, RCA Victor, 1969 12 Atlanta Soto Zen Center, Soto Zen Service Book 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid. 15 James Wolcott, Through a Lens Darkly, Vanity Fair Magazine, February 2006 16 William J. Broad, The Oracle Suggest a Truce Between Science and Religion (NYT February 28, 2006), Excerpted from The Oracle: The Lost Secrets and Hidden Message of Ancient Delphi (New York: The Penguin Press, 2006) 17 Abraham H. Maslow, Toward a Psychology of Being, Third Edition (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1999) 18 Trevor Leggett, Zen Reader 19 Webster’s New World Dictionary of the American Language, Second College Edition (New York, Simon & Shuster, Inc., 1984) p. 1119 20 Anecdotal, Soyu Matsuoka, Roshi 21 David J. Chalmers, The Conscious Mind; In Search of a Fundamental Theory (New York, Oxford University Press, 1996). P. 4. 22 Unknown source??? 23 Daniel J. Dennett, Show Me the Science (NYT, August 28, 2005) 24 Intelligent Design, AJC, Op-Ed page 2007 25 Hegel’s Dialectic??? 26 Muso Soseki, Dream Conversations, Trans. ??? B. CHURCH VERSUS STATE

One obvious target in the debate between the powers-that-would-be of fundamentalist Christianity, and those of secular Science, is the law requiring separation of church and the state. Its demolition is the apparent objective of the religious right, the prize to be won through political pressure exerted upon school boards and legislatures. This struggle for hegemony, and its eventual outcome, may be more crucial to the future of the republic, than the most outrageous power grabs between the executive, legislative and judicial branches. This particular pendulum lurches in both directions, with periodic shifts toward the secular, then the sacred. But it is possible for a pendulum to get stuck. Attitudes ossify, and rust in place. What we need is some lubrication. Overt and clandestine church-state conniving slathers an additional dollop of unhelpful uncertainty on top of the teetering dagwood sandwich of economic, personal, and social crises that is America today, if that is not too many metaphors to mix. Threats to social harmony are coming from the very folks supposed to be part of the solution, not piling on the problem. On the one hand, government is expected to keep the peace, and preserve and protect the Constitution, preferably simultaneously. On the other, the church is supposed to aid and comfort, in times of tragedy and grief, and to celebrate in times of joy. Instead, both seem to be busily, and furtively, magnifying the discord. Church versus State is the heading, rather than Church and State, because opposition of the two is precisely what is at stake, in the push of the Christian right to merge them. When will we ever learn, say, from to-remain-nameless theocracies overseas? Like the mating of two different species—which, at best, produces a chimera—if successful, this movement threatens to birth an ugly baby, combining the worst traits of both: restrictive religion, and invasive government. Merging religion and government would seem doomed to failure, a lose-lose proposition: religion mired in politics; government based on blind faith. Of course, failure is in the eye of the believer. The following delves into the prolific pronouncements of the Catholic Church on the debate, as well as select quotes from the Protestant side. In order to present a broad snapshot of current opinion, man-on-the-street viewpoints are included, along with those of the inner circle, though we make no claim to being fair and balanced. Another caveat: references to Buddhism are meant only to represent my limited understanding, and not to be construed as speaking for Zen or Buddhist teachings as an authoritative or scholarly source. Again, this is from the perspective of a humble practitioner of Zen. All errors in representing the buddhadharma are mine, alone.

AN UGLY BABY When the phrase middle ground is mentioned, you might, reflexively, think of politics. Politics has been called the art of compromise, conjuring the unsavory context of shady deals, made in a smoke-filled room. A different kind of compromise is called for in the current volatile situation, one which recognizes the commonality of shared consequences, for both sides of the conflict, as well as those to be visited upon future generations. The compassion of Buddhism recognizes this commonality. It is not a one-sided practice of good deeds and works for the sake of others. Do-gooderism can be ill-conceived, and can even have the opposite effect intended. The cautionary tale about teaching people to fish, rather than creating dependency by providing the fish, is a familiar example. In Buddhism, compassion simply means suffer with. Whatever the outcome of the debate, religious and scientific people alike will suffer the consequences, intended or unintended. There is no choice in this, no escape. Everyone suffers along with the disadvantaged, the identified sufferers of the world, in ways that are indirect, and invisible. Those who can, pay for those who can’t, taxes being the most obvious example. Panhandlers are the most visible manifestation, and are widely reviled for it. When either religion, or science, gets mixed up with politics, what appears is the dark underbelly of human venality, gussied up in altruistic rhetoric. It’s always for the sake of the children, that we need to embrace the latest brainchild cooked up by an advocacy group. The unwanted offspring of the marriage of government and religion, or of government and science, can be truly monstrous, e.g. the Inquisition, and the Atomic Bomb, respectively. Or they can be harmless, such as teaching the Bible as literature, or the principles of evolution as science, in “government schools.” Occasionally, child prodigies are birthed, such as the Bill of Rights, and the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty. Progeny of the holy union of reason and belief, these beautiful babies spring from the triumph of trust over treachery. Most examples of church-state entanglement are of a more niggling variety. The campaign to display the Ten Commandments in public buildings springs to mind, justified, to abuse the term, by reclassifying them as documents foundational to the United States of America. Proponents of this cause hope to bring about, by political co-option, and the force of law, imposition of their views upon others, that they cannot accomplish by persuasion. It’s a Trojan-horse approach to restricting behavior they find objectionable, such as purchasing alcohol on the (Christian) Sabbath; or promoting behavior they want to encourage, such as establishing prayer in public schools. What could be wrong with displaying the Holy Writ in public places, after all? Their opponents tend to view these purportedly well-intentioned, relatively innocuous, gambits with a jaundiced eye. They smell a slippery slope, into the swamp of conservative Christian dogma, drowning freedom of choice for all. Whether these choices are important, or not, is in the mind of the chooser. But the design of the USA, as a democratic and/or libertarian republic, seems to generally favor the concept of expanding, rather than contracting, the choices of its citizens, so long as it does not lead to harming others. One person’s choice is another’s constriction, unfortunately. Any conflict, such as the friction between the values of the religious right, and the freedoms allowed by democracy, necessarily emphasizes difference over sameness. Otherwise, no conflict. For example, same sex marriage. The important point, to the religious right, is that gay people are different from them, and therefore, perverse. They can quote the Bible to justify this attitude. But this blithely ignores the perversity exhibited by heterosexuals. Women and young girls who choose abortion, for whatever reason, are irresponsible, cruel and unfeeling. Compared to right-to-lifers who oppose welfare for mothers who carry their babies to term. When it comes to hate the sin, love the sinner, the latter gets short shrift. These self-serving attitudes are not restricted to the right. They are the direct outgrowth of the self-defense mechanisms of the self. A reasonable person might be forgiven, for feeling that differences stressed by moralists and busybodies are more imagined than real, not worth the hot air expended, let alone the laws passed by pandering politicians. Those most committed to converting their beliefs to law, to impose them on their fellow citizens, seem to come from the extremes of fundamentalist religion. Moderate lobbyists are a rare breed. The true believers must think they have something frightfully urgent, and terribly important, to gain, or to lose. What do they imagine to be at stake? If the driving imperative is the saving of souls, for example, wouldn’t God take care of that, regardless of societal norms? Or is strict conformity to biblical mores of 2000 years ago the ticket to salvation? This goes to a familiar question, for which conservative Christians probably have a ready answer: What is the fate of those millions of souls, that passed from this veil of tears, long before the advent of Christianity? How about those who have never been exposed to its teachings? Recent published concessions, that other religions may also lead to salvation, ameliorate the negative impact of this bias somewhat, but those Christians, or Muslims for that matter, who agree with this compassionate attitude, would probably make up a distinct minority. Of course, the most vocal minority in no way represents the vast, diverse body of religion, or even Christianity, but only a narrow slice of the latter. Likewise, absolute materialists comprise a small, but vocal. minority of scientists. The squeaky wheels have a dog in this hunt, to mix more metaphors. What is at stake, exactly, other than souls? Plenty, but on a less exalted plane. The marriage of church and state has generally—perhaps always, given enough time to end in divorce—produced an ugly baby. This seems owing to at least two reasons, the first being the functional incompatibility of the two. The church claims to deal with soteriological issues of the soul, peddling personal salvation. Government, optimistically, exists to deal with survival issues of the body politic, as well as each citizen’s body and mind, promoting individual life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The former is focused on the heavenly, the latter on the earthly. The second, more determinative reason, is that neither church nor state effectively addresses the potential, and the limitations, of the self. Religion and government, as institutions, fail to attack the root of societal dysfunction. The church offers little more than lip-service, to address greed, hate and delusion, for fear of alienating their congregations. The trend toward prosperity religion preaches the opposite, amounting to little more than greed is good proselytizing. Instead, each congregation is in thrall to the charisma of its clergy, a cult of personality, exacerbated by the star-maker machinery of evangelist TV. Commanding a larger flock than the shepherd on the next hill seems to be the primary objective. And the state does little or nothing to foster wisdom in its citizens. The esteemed colleagues of governance, on every level, promote consumerism as the highest good. Good citizenship is dumbed down, to stoking the economy. Prosperity civics. No self-sacrifice necessary, as long as our party is in charge. Is it any wonder that people no longer turn to government for guidance? Each, the church as well as the state, tries to impose order from the top down, in the form of beliefs, commandments, policies and laws. Religious radicals even insist on the identity of their commandments with the fundamental law of the land, here as well as abroad. It has been said that the best form of government is a benevolent dictatorship. But a dictator can be benevolent, even compassionate, yet sorely lacking in wisdom, the insight required to know what is truly beneficial for others. In the imposition of laws, we see the folly of fallible human beings setting up rules for other fallible human beings, often exempting themselves from those same laws. Same for beliefs and precepts. Do as I say, not as I do. The targeted citizens often do not see the benefit of the laws they are supposed to obey. Instead, the self-serving intent of laws designed by lawmakers, with the help of their special-interest sponsors, is gratingly obvious. Any interest written into law is a special interest, by definition. It invariably favors one group, or individual, over another. Few, if any, laws are written to serve all citizens equally. Laws take sides. This is the nature of government: it discriminates. Natural law is the only one that treats all equally. Gravity does not play favorites. Members of the Christian church harbor discriminatory attitudes as well, favoring the saved and pitying the damned, believers and nonbelievers, respectively. As mentioned above, only recently have religious leaders begun to acquiesce to the notion that members of other faiths may also enter into their idea of heaven. Religious beliefs, attributed to the word of God, all too often share the weaknesses of mankind’s laws: arbitrary, unevenly applied, and divisive. While it is correctly said that Buddhism is not based on belief, it must be admitted that there are certain things that Buddhists do believe, in the colloquial sense. Amongst these basics are that all human beings have the potential to wake up, to the spiritual insight that is the holy grail of Buddhism. This insight is, however, not uniquely Buddhist. It is regarded as the essential epiphany, an experience characteristic of all founders of major world religions. In Buddhism, spiritual insight is not exactly one-size-fits-all, as individual differences in ability are taken into account. Which goes a long way toward explaining why everyone is not already enlightened. But the Buddhist attitude is that all are equally damned, and equally saved, depending on their own actions. Only our own actions can save us, not those of a savior, certainly not absolution offered by another fallible human being.

BIG BROTHER, BIG FATHER Top-down approaches are limited in their effectiveness, because each person’s needs must be met on a deeper level than can be provided by an outside force, such as a church or government. It is not hyperbole to say that what is called for is a revolution. Revolution, any transformational change, political or spiritual, must come from the ground up. This premise seems central to the message of all religions, and is particularly true of Zen Buddhism. In Islam, Jihad is said to be a personal struggle, first and foremost. Salvation in Christianity, as well as in Buddhism, requires surrendering the self. Like charity, any form of true religion, and its salvation, compassion, or wisdom, begins at home. As an aside, the personal dimension of enlightenment in religion would seem to hold true for science as well. The highest accomplishments of science, the great insights of Einstein and others, came from their inmost consciousness; they did not simply fall out of the math. Returning to the issue of good government: If people have what they need—if they but recognize that what they already have, is what they want and need—any system of government will work. If people are unhappy, if the pursuit of happiness becomes impossible or impracticable, no form of government can really work. Government enforcement of order is only necessary when individual citizens misbehave. But people often misbehave, precisely because of the government imposed upon them. The Founders revolted against taxation without representation, but also against imposition of state religion, the Church of England. Try Church of America on for size. Like government dictates, guidelines of the church are bound to fall on deaf ears, when the congregation is pursuing happiness, needs and wants, that conflict with those very guidelines. Christianity teaches spiritual poverty on one hand, but promotes the gospel of prosperity on the other. They do not go hand-in-hand. Until and unless the dictates of government, and the strictures imposed by religion, align with the personal imperatives of physical well-being and spiritual salvation, neither church nor state will be instrumental in bringing about the utopia, that is their ostensible goal. Peace on earth, goodwill toward men, will forever be nothing more than a bumper sticker. In Zen, our attitudinal orientation is to wake up to the compassion we receive from existence itself, by virtue of our very being. Prosperity and well-being are not based on what wealth we pursue and accumulate, but the fullness of the life we live. The question of how much is enough, to be happy, is answered with a life of simplicity. Every day is a happy day; every day is a good day. Churches and states, as institutions, are not the source of comfort or happiness. Perhaps a necessary evil, but not necessary to happiness.

LITERALIST LEMMINGS One of the most terrifying beliefs served up by Christianity is that of Armageddon. But the belief itself is not as terrifying as the fact that so many people actually believe in it. Devoted acolytes of this doomsday scenario have reportedly infiltrated governmental bureaucracies, occupying positions of some power, no matter the administration. Their fading poster-boy, James G. Watt, Secretary of the Interior during the Reagan administration, was famous, or infamous, for his laissez-faire approach to managing the resources of the country, anticipating the Second Coming. Not to mention that the Ronald himself, who has since gone to his reward, and so should now know better, was famously paraphrased as saying, “If you’ve seen one redwood, you’ve seen them all.” In the interest of fairness, the then governor of California’s literal statement was:

I think, too, that we’ve got to recognize that where the preservation of a natural resource like the redwoods is concerned, that there is a common sense limit. I mean, if you’ve looked at a hundred thousand acres or so of trees—you know, a tree is a tree, how many more do you need to look at?

Seems avuncular enough, until you consider the Reagan-Bush legacy of environmental devastation. Special interests, and your taxes, at work. These attitudes of the few affect the many. Onward, Christian soldiers, making day-in and day-out decisions with short- and long-term consequences for the quality of existence, potentially the very survival, of the citizens of America, and by extension of the planet, is not a great comfort to the heathen. This land is whose land? Based on anticipation of the Rapture, when they, the minority of true believers, will rise up into the heavens to join their true Leader, they decide such issues as how much strip-mining and deforestation to allow, based on the certainty that it doesn’t really matter. The apocalypse is coming anyway, and certified Christians are all already saved, so why sweat the details? It lends discomfiting, new meaning, to the word certified to realize that the right’s recent earthly leader, former chief decider and POTUS, W the self-proclaimed uniter—who, most folks now agree, turned out to be a closet divider—bears an eerie resemblance to fictional mascot, Alfred E. Neuman, of Mad Magazine, with his memorable motto, What, Me Worry? This may explain Mr. Bush’s irrational exuberance, in the face of the disastrous results of his eight years as decider-in-chief. The preceding rant may not seem very Zen-like, but the attitudes and behaviors it points to are not very Zen-like, either. Buddhism counsels patience and compassion in judging the behavior of others, but it also recognizes that most of the suffering of the world is imposed by human beings. It does not simply overlook the damage done, especially by persons in positions of power, but holds them accountable to a higher level of responsibility. It is not exactly hate the sin, but love the sinner. This would only amount to enabling behavior, in many cases. Replace sin with ignorance, however, and we have something to work with, and on. We might respectfully suggest dedicating one of the many rooms in the White House as a meditation hall. Let’s begin our examination of the father of all churches, Catholicism. Please be warned that some of the following comments are critical of what Vatican spokesmen have said, in their attempts to clarify difficult dimensions of Christian doctrine. The criticism is not intended as personal, directed at the church leadership, or its congregation; the Church is too easy a target for that. Instead, we will use the public arguments of the best minds of the Holy See as springboards, for challenging the attitudes they reveal, especially toward science; but more to our point, for clarification of contrary viewpoints of Buddhism and Zen, by comparison and contrast.

VIRTUAL VATICAN Beset by mounting litigation over allegations of pedophilia and other transgressions in the ranks of the priesthood, particularly in the US, and spreading throughout Europe like an airborne virus, the Catholic fathers nonetheless finds the time to weigh in on the relatively cerebral matter of ID. Theirs seems an ambivalent position that embraces science, if not unreservedly, while insisting upon the omniscience of God, and his rightfulplace firmly ensconced in the driver’s seat. In the NYT, Ian Fisher and Cornelia Dean, report:

The official Vatican newspaper published an article this week labeling as “correct” the recent decision by a judge in Pennsylvania that intelligent design should not be taught as a scientific alternative to evolution. “If the model proposed by Darwin is not considered sufficient, one should search for another,” [Fiorenzo Facchini, a professor of evolutionary biology at the University of Bologna]. “But it is not correct from a methodological point of view to stray from the field of science while pretending to do science,” he wrote, calling intelligent design unscientific. “It only creates confusion between the scientific plane and those that are philosophical or religious.”

At first blush, the Catholic position seems to be coming down on the side of respect for science. This is very much in accord with Zen, which finds no conflict with the findings of science, only awe in its confirmation of the inconceivable beauty of the universe (see: Hubble). But Fisher and Dean go on to report that ambiguous, or at least mixed, signals, are coming from the Vatican:

Christoph Shonborn, an Austrian cardinal close to [Pope] Benedict, seemed to call into question what has been official church teaching for years: that Catholicism and evolution are not necessarily at odds… he played down a 1996 letter in which Pope John Paul II called evolution “more than a hypothesis.”

Perhaps the Vatican underwent its own evolution, during the decade from one teaching to the next. In a prior column, published a few weeks before this report, cardinal Schonborn, the Roman Catholic cardinal archbishop of Vienna, and lead editor of the 1992 Catechism of the Catholic Church, clarifies misconceptions about the official Catholic stance on evolution. In a paragraph preceding the quote above, he denies that the Pope’s “more than a hypothesis” remark gives “defenders of neo- Darwinian dogma” any claim to compatibility with Christian faith. Assuming, that is, that such defenders would even seek such a questionable credential. Under the headline, Finding Design in Nature; The official Catholic stance on evolution, he says:3

The Catholic Church, while leaving to science many details about the history of life on earth, proclaims that by the light of reason the human intellect can readily and clearly discern purpose and design in the natural world, including the world of living things.

Leaders of the church are the big-picture guys, leaving scientists to sweat the small stuff. We might ask, What about God being in the details? Or was that the devil? Perhaps it is inevitable, that such pronunciamentos seem to arrogate, to the clergy, the imprimatur of absolute truth. Some down-to- earth humility from on high, an attitude adjustment, would be most welcome. Any scientists worth their salt would surely agree, with the proclamation that the human intellect can discern purpose and design, in the natural world. But one might offer a caveat, to the definition of those terms, purpose and design. That is, they do not necessitate, nor do they predict, a Purposeful Designer. The unasked, but implicitly answered, question is: Purpose and design of and by whom, or what? Here, for the theist, there is only one acceptable answer, and it is foreknown: G. O. D. A complete circle, back to square one. Discernment of purpose and design, is, then, elevated to the level of proof, of the existence of something, Someone behind, said purpose and design. But purpose is real function, design is real form. Existence has purpose, existence has design. This is plainly self-evident, whether or not that existence includes, or is called, God. Shonborn goes on to put his theological foot in it, from the secular standpoint:

Evolution in the sense of common ancestry might be true, but evolution in the neo-Darwinian sense—an unguided, unplanned process of random variation and natural selection—is not. Any system of thought that denies or seeks to explain away the overwhelming evidence for design in biology is ideology, not science.

This is the kind of attitude that raises secular hackles. A religious figure, smugly claiming to know, without question, what is, or is not, true. The word true does not even qualify, as a meaningful attribute, of evolution. Whether or not evolution is true, is not a scientific issue. That it functions, marvelously, to clarify otherwise incomprehensible aspects of existence, is sufficient proof of its trueness. It does not have to be true, in any absolute sense. From the cardinal’s expression, “in the neo-Darwinian sense,” one infers a distortion of old Darwinism. This would suggest a radical, no-holds-barred reductionism, reducing biology to chemistry, chemistry to physics, physics to quantum uncertainty, and so on, rendering all of “God’s creation” a kind of cosmic fluke. One can sympathize with religious resistance, to that kind of extremist scientific philosophy. But does this conform to any actual scientist’s definition of natural selection? The outcome, of the process outlined by Darwin, is anything but a fluke.

OUTSIDE INTELLIGENCE The cardinal’s terms: “unguided, unplanned…random variation” and near-pejorative implications of their usage, imply the necessity of an intelligence, outside the physical process itself, keeping chaos under control. As if the universe is not exercising self-control. This may be seen as an extended metaphor for the religious take on the individual. If Dr. Jekyll is not kept under control, by religious belief, Mr. Hyde will surely get loose. Nature as the devil itself. This perceived bifurcation of order and chaos, good and evil, with a godless universe as an unbearably fearful concept, is kissing cousin to the Cartesian separation of mind and body, spirit and flesh, and its corollary, God and Satan. This attitude suggests a phobia of unpredictability. Perhaps it reflects ambivalence, unpredictability of the soul’s hopeful entrance into heaven, or its consignment to the flames. The cardinal’s argument reduces to fear-driven, belief-based logic, a self-fulfilling tautology. Given God, the only intelligent conclusion is, well, God. In the same sentence, “natural selection” is lumped with “random variation” as part of an “unplanned process.” Cardinal Shonborn doesn’t understand, or chooses to ignore, that natural selection is precisely the opposite of an unguided, unplanned process of random variation. His bone of contention is that the guidance does not come from outside. It is built in, self-correcting, intrinsic to natural selection. The cardinal’s own intelligence is a result of this process. The ability to guide and plan, or design—traits attributed to human intelligence—have developed, precisely through natural selection. The ability to guide and plan, is a specific adaptive advantage that, in large part, insured the dominant position humans enjoy today. Cultural evolution,4 the transmission of information, through language, from one generation to the next, has probably played an even greater part in humankind’s success. Biological evolution apparently lags behind advances in technology, ramped up in the last few centuries. Man’s pace of inventiveness outstripping that of his Creator, the flight from the Garden of Eden, redux. But the cardinal attributes these human traits to Christianity’s God, as does the entire ID argument: “have you ever seen a clock, building, et cetera that did not have a maker?” 5 But these abilities are not demonstrably a gift from God, nor are they unique to human beings. Many species have the ability to plan, and guide their behavior, as well as that of their offspring, to greater or lesser degree. Hence, the expression, squirrel away, and a more positive spin on monkey see, monkey do. Further, we can press the argument that there is no such thing as random variation. What appears to be random, is in the conceptual limitations of the beholder. The theory of evolution posits that nothing is finally random, in the workings of nature. Winners in the game of survival may not be predictable, but they win on evolving traits, through adaptability to an evolving environment. Such an elegant theory, in fact, reconciles the appearance of randomness, with the grandly complex, underlying higher order, which may appear, to mere mortals, as chaos. What is truly threatening about it, is that it does not necessarily guarantee the survival of the human species, let alone promise an eternity in paradise, at the throne of the chosen species’ creator. Buddhism in general, and Zen in particular, find no conflict with the findings of science. In fact, as the Dalai Lama insists, if the findings of science are found to contradict the findings of Buddhism, it is the latter that has to adapt, not the former.6 But there are areas that are clearly off-limits to the intrusions of scientific observation, where even the most skillful, indirect methods of investigation, will bias the certainty of the findings. Such an area is that of consciousness, studying consciousness, through consciousness, the province of Zen mediation.

IDEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE Misuse and abuse of language is an overriding constant, one that offers a peek in the tent behind the sideshow, of the debate. The phrase “denies or seeks to explain away the overwhelming evidence” is a particularly specious construction, illustrative of an unwarranted attitude toward science as ideology. Characterizing the scientific method as denying, or explaining away, asserts that any challenge, to claims of the Church, amounts to proof that scientists are in denial. Ergo, they are incapable of actually refuting the evidence. Or worse, they are intentionally deceiving the listener. Thus, the scientist who dares dissent, is cloaked in Satan’s guise, that of the Great Deceiver. Science ideologues are deceiving others—or more charitably, even themselves—through denial of evidence. And evidence is the holy grail of science, is it not? Therefore, denying design is a denial of science itself. Or else, simply naked deceit. But this is a feint, in defense of Design. Rather than denying, or explaining away, scientists challenge this so-called evidence. Shonborn’s claim, of overwhelming evidence, is transparently an unscientific assertion, based on ideology, sans any credible evidence, the very error that he accuses the unnamed scientists of making. Maybe there is a scientific ideology, but anyone wearing such heavy ideological blinders, would be unable to differentiate it from credible, scientific argument. We have to ask, who is actually in denial here? Shonborn goes on to assert that, while John Paul’s “rather vague and unimportant…letter about evolution is always and everywhere cited,” it doesn’t represent his “robust teaching on nature” quoted from an earlier speech:

All the observations concerning the development of life lead to a similar conclusion. The evolution of living beings, of which science seeks to determine the stages and to discern the mechanism, presents an internal finality, which arouses admiration. This finality which directs beings in a direction for which they are not responsible or in charge, obliges one to suppose a Mind which is its inventor, its creator.

We will set aside the question of the cardinal’s qualifications, to judge which of Pope John Paul’s writings are vague and unimportant, and which are not. But, respectfully, the quote he offers as a corrective, does not itself appear all that clear, nor very important. The Pope allows as to how the creator-inventor Mind is, after all, merely a supposition, albeit an obligatory one. The cardinal then explains the special meaning of finality in the holy lexicon: “Note that in this quotation the word ‘finality’ is a philosophical term synonymous with final cause, purpose or design.” Proving its premise, by closing on itself, that final cause must be synonymous with first cause. This seems entirely circular, and self-fulfilling. Finality, we would then suppose to be, virtually interchangeable, with fate. This would yield a theory, then, of divinely-determined fatalism. Such non- analysis belies a desperate craving, that one’s dearly-held beliefs be, finally, true. If free will has any reality, we are all clearly responsible for the direction of our life, through our actions. This is the Buddhist model of karma, and its consequences. What we do and what happens to us are intricately interconnected, by causality. In Buddhism, the nature of one’s future is dependent upon one’s actions, in the present, a well as the past, and includes their compound effect upon future births. It is not the intentional design, of another consciousness. Is God a consciousness? If so, from what does it spring? Where does it reside? Is God conscious of our actions? On the Christian model, the only meaningful consequence of our actions seems to be whether one’s soul enters into heaven, or hell, after death. Of course, we can not be totally in charge of everything that happens. Beings may not be fully responsible, nor completely in charge, of the direction of their lives, But this does not require, logically, that someone or something else necessarily is. This impulse seems to be for some sort of foreordained closure. But the reality, according to Zen Buddhism, is open-ended. The Catholic conclusion, that there must be someone else in charge, does not follow, from the truism that human beings are not in charge. This idea may be admirable for its humility, but is, again, circular logic, reasserting a foregone conclusion. While this craving for a divine certainty is understandable, it is not intrinsic to spirituality, according to Buddhism. This kind of Mind, a godhead that is, by nature, separate from nature, has no place in Buddhism. Nor does it find a home in science, in that it cannot actually be found, directly or by logical inference. Science, and Zen, are both based on findings and evidence. Mind that is interdependent with being, however, rather than separate from it, does not contradict current science and its theory of evolution, nor the findings of Zen. It is like so-called matter-and-energy. We now consider these apparently different states to be not-two, not separable, as they were once conceived. Like particle and wave, matter and energy are captive and radiant manifestations, respectively, of the same fundamental forces. Everything seems, superficially, to manifest this kind of dualism, which, upon closer scrutiny, evaporates into a higher complementary unity yin-and-yang, not yin or yang. Everything can be said to evolve, including mind. But Pope John Paul is adamant, in his belief that the human mind cannot hope to understand reality, without recourse to divine Mind:

To all these indications of the existence of God the Creator, some oppose the power of chance or of the proper mechanisms of matter. To speak of chance for a universe which presents such a complex organization in its elements and such marvelous finality in its life would be equivalent to giving up the search for an explanation of the world as it appears to us. In fact, this would be equivalent to admitting effects without a cause. It would be to abdicate human intelligence, which would thus refuse to think and seek a solution for its problems.

Dismissal of the role of chance, applied to creation, is understandable from a theistic viewpoint. But attributing power to it, as a discrete force, is unscientific. Chance, in science, might be considered a placeholder for causality that is not yet determined or understood, precisely owing to its complexity. It is not a specific cause, nor a cop-out, in the context of science. In the context of creationism, it might be considered an indication of God’s complexity, outside human ken. If we may have a sense of humor, chance might be seen as the creative aspect of God’s mind. It is surprise, that is unpredictable; randomness, that is the source of delight and joy. How did the very idea of chance come to have such dire connotations for Catholicism? Reducing creation’s intent to randomness, while feared as undermining theism, might instead be presented as God’s omnipresent will, appearing random only to human perception. But the argument for God’s existence, and will, is equivalent to admitting an effect (God), without a cause. Who or what created God? Is God the original, and only, accident? An accident, in the parlance of ID, is regarded as a kind of unholy, mindless mistake. In a universe guided by the Christian God, there can be no such thing. Even the most random of events must be God’s will. This makes our visceral reaction to evolution as random variation, and a challenge to God’s sovereignty, self-contradictory. No one would argue that mere chance is a satisfactory first, or final, cause. Nor does it stand as a source of purpose and design, for the origin and finality of beings, and the world. But does this simplistic definition of chance, truly reflect what Science would mean, by chance processes, or random variation? Or is this simply another, dismissive rebuttal, of the scientific viewpoint? In Buddhism, the over-simplification of “admitting effects without a cause” is supplanted by the theory of Interdependent Origination, Buddha’s principle of interlinked, multiple cause-and-effect complexes, which condition the compound reality. More on this later (see Basics of Buddhism).

CAUSE-EFFECT COMPLEX It insults intelligence, to suggest that the complexity, and organization, of the universe, is simply a function of chance. Defined as chaotic and purposeless, no scientist would make the case for chance. But the provenance of the universe can not, reasonably, be considered the product of simple linear causality, either. Manifestations, that appear to us as effects, arise out of both causes and conditions. Soil, water, and sunshine are not causes of the growth of the seed, but necessary conditions. Every effect may be considered a cause, and every cause, also an effect. Causes and effects are not separate classes, and do not function separately. Causes and effects are also conditions. No one, causal condition, can be completely isolated from the others, though proximity counts. Proximate causes have more effect, than do remote conditions. This same principle, that all causes and conditions are interdependent, would have to apply to God, as the first, and/or final, cause. God, then, is not an isolate, a lone creative causer, who can be somehow separated from his creation. “Mechanisms of matter” implies that the behavior of matter, i.e. particles, is truly mechanical, a Newtonian construct. But there is nothing mechanical, in the conventional sense, about the behavior of matter, on the quantum level. A virtual particle, e.g., is not mechanical. Matter is inseparable from energy, and energy is, likewise, not separable from information. Energy, in the form of information, is indeed, the physical basis of human (and all other) intelligence. In this sense, intelligence can be seen as trans-human, an operative principle that is inherent in existence itself. It can not be considered a separate quality, let alone a separate entity. This is Zen’s expression that all is not one, but the most you can say is not-two. We might suggest that, contrary to the pontiff, deistic dogmatism is, itself, tantamount to “giving up the search for an explanation of the world as it appears to us.” Theology basically recapitulates the ancient, superstitious belief in the separation of material and spiritual worlds, where matter is matter, spirit is spirit, and never the twain shall meet. Rather than “abdicate human intelligence” in favor of a belief, theistic intelligence might allow that the “proper mechanisms of matter” are, themselves, the actions of the mind of a living God. Zen holds that there is no need to separate matter from mind, mind from body, or sacred from profane. Shonborn then Quotes John Paul from another speech:

It is clear that the truth of faith about creation is radically opposed to the theories of materialistic philosophy. These view the cosmos as the result of an evolution of matter reducible to pure chance and necessity.

Please indulge another semantic exercise:

It is clear that the truth of materialistic philosophy about creation is radically opposed to the theories of faith. These view the cosmos as the result of an act of an invisible God that does not allow for chance or necessity.

The terms truth and theory are pimped out as propaganda, more appropriate to political posturing. Where either side uses terms propagandistically, they lose their contextual meaning, and the argument becomes reversible. Truth is used as if its very absoluteness lends weight to “faith about creation.” Tossing materialistic philosophy onto the heap of mere theories, implies that its so-called truths are, innately, questionable. No group, religious or scientific, can claim exclusive rights to truth. Once again, the underlying presumption. The audience, undoubtedly, sees the same clothes on the emperor, as clearly as does the Pope. Faith as used, assumes a pre-definition, as exclusively religious. Here it is deployed here as the stamp of authenticity for Catholic doctrine. But even scientists operate on faith, a confidence that their empirical discipline will yield dependable, even predictable, proof of their theories. Or it will refute them, just as dependably. Faith, in Zen, is inseparable from doubt, and not an article of belief. It consists in a question, not an answer. Truth, and theory, are not held in opposition, from a scientific, viewpoint. A theory is an expression, of probable truth, undergoing rigorous testing, based on evidence, the polar opposite of religious belief. Nor are truth and theory they opposed in Zen. They are complementary, mutually- defining. The test is scientific investigation, and Zen meditation. The Pope’s marginalization of the “theories of materialistic philosophy” begs the question, whether or not there is such a philosophy. Would an actual, living, radical-materialist-philosopher- scientist, please stand up and be counted? Is there, somewhere in the real world, such a caricature? A proud preacher of scientific dogma, devoted to propagating unexamined beliefs, in the religion of science? Perhaps they are out there, but they will comprise a minority, much smaller than the religious right. The Pope’s comment elicits more questions than it answers, for the un-anointed. What, we might ask, does the Pope mean by “pure chance,” in the context of evolution? In evolution theory, change arises interdependently with context, far from a pure force in isolation. What is meant by “necessity,” and why is it deprecated here? Necessity driven by what, necessity to exist? Is there more than one class of necessity? Is anything in nature truly unnecessary? Surely change, appearing as chance, is driven by necessity. Moreover, does necessity have any meaning outside of intent? Does John Paul’s necessity stand in opposition to God’s intent? If God is God, as argued, then surely all necessity, as witnessed in the evolution, arguably springs from His intent. Circularity again. From the perspective of Zen, evolution seems natural, self-evident. It does not necessitate conformance to the intent of a greater being. Evolution is manifesting intent innately, intimately, and immediately. It is self-intentional, self-intelligent, and may be called universal Mind in action. Call it God if you like; our beliefs and opinions do not alter reality, nor effect our relationship to reality.

ABANDONMENT ANGST Cardinal Shonborn segues from quoting Pope John Paul a more recent commission, headed by Pope Benedict before his installment, and quotes from his homily. Where the prior comments of John Paul are presented as contradictory, here Shonborn attempts to show how the underlying sentiment demonstrates accord:

An unguided evolutionary process—one that falls outside the bounds of divine providence—simply cannot exist. We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary.

That something “simply cannot exist” we would expect to hear from a physicist, rather than a pope. The key attributes of this impossible evolutionary process are “unguided” and “outside the bounds of divine providence.” Arguably, this amounts to a statement of belief, masquerading as argument. It is followed by a most deeply revealing expression, of the all-too-human fear of meaninglessness: “We are not some…meaningless product of evolution.” It reminds of the Tomorrow Soliloquy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, with its tale told by an idiot lament. Could anyone voice a more naked, and transparent, yearning for meaning? A more desolate view, devoid of the innate dignity of humankind? Might this not be the driving necessity, underlying the invention of a belief in God? A belief that offers some hope, softening the spiritual ache, at the center of this devastatingly paranoid view of existence? Does this not affirm that religion is, indeed, Marx’s opium of the people?9 Can theists not bring themselves to face the possibility, of a reality without their God? The last three statements represent a succinct summary of basic, psychological fears, that may underpin dependence, on the belief in a creator god. One—fear of being an accident, unwilled to exist by anyone or anything outside oneself. Two—fear of being unloved, especially by a parental and forgiving God. And three—fear of being unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. While understandable, and widespread, the confession of this attitude seems truly pathetic. Not in the demeaning sense, but in the sense of genuine pathos. Only human beings are capable of this level of self-flagellation, and existential doubt. That we find it at the core, of what is called religion, is truly distressing. Putting the best face on it, one could argue that the Pope is expressing, not his own despair, but that of his childlike followers. Attempting to protect them from the emotional devastation wrought by the harsh glare of scientific inquiry, like a good father, or a shepherd with his flock. In Buddhism, we have great confidence in the self, the original nature. This is the true self, as opposed to the constructed self, or soul. For this reason there is less paternalism, less reliance on hierarchical authority, in Zen, The meaning, or lack of meaning, of our existence, is not so fragile as to be threatened by theories of science, or of other religions. To be fully human does not depend on being willed, loved, or necessary. It depends on developing direct insight, into the actual conditions of our existence.

HIGHEST INTELLIGENCE The cardinal concludes by agreeing with Pope Paul’s earlier message, correlating human intelligence with faith. He does so, in a way that goes to the heart of the religious argument, against secular scientists, particularly those who speak out against ID:

Scientific theories that try to explain away the appearance of design as the result of “chance and necessity” are not scientific at all, but, as John Paul put it, an abdication of human intelligence.

The official Catholic view, then, is that the highest human intelligence should not arrogate to itself the ability to “explain away” reality. It is apparently acceptable, however, for the pontificate to arrogate to themselves the wisdom to explain reality, based on belief in an unseen creator; to read into nature, the indisputable evidence of his handiwork; and to condemn those with the temerity to disagree. This position is antithetical to the scientific hope, that human intelligence can, ultimately, comprehend the mysteries of existence. The scientific position is, thus, also a kind of faith, but one that does not use belief, as a substitute for evidence or reason. That a deep and abiding respect, for the scientific method, amounts to an abdication of human intelligence; can not be established by papal fiat, however vehemently and often repeated. If the good friars wish to counter the theories of science, they will have to enter the same playing field. The religious right’s default position, blustering and hiding behind the skirts of God’s robes, indicates a reluctance to honestly engage the debate. It really comes down to a claim of authority, because I say so. But the empirical approach of science is available to all to deploy. To prove their religious theories on a scientific basis, they would, instead, be required to frame testable hypotheses, followed by experiments that yield indisputable evidence. Failing that, they would need to marshal arguments of such compelling reason, that only an unreasonable person could deny them. Simply insisting that one’s position, as an authority in the church, validates one’s position in the debate, will not suffice. Human intelligence, in the scientific mode, is aimed largely at answering how questions, whereas religions generally address why questions. Shonborn’s and the Pope’s statements assert that the use of human intelligence, to discover how the universe is designed, rather than to speculate about who designed it, and why, amounts to an abdication of intelligence. But, conversely, it seems a clear abdication of human intelligence, to engage in slinging such metaphysical mud. Again, where is the precision of language? Would any real scientist, under the Pope’s scrutiny, agree to the Vatican’s definitions of chance and necessity? The pontiff’s language presumes that they would. Or they may be preaching only to the choir of fellow Catholics. Might it not be sensible, and Christian in the sense of charity, to make a good-faith effort to define terms in such a way that one’s target of derision, science, at least agrees on their usage? That discipline, alone, would put the discourse on a higher plane. These pronouncements amount to defining science to scientists. No wonder that certain scientists have, finally, taken up the gauntlet, defining religion to the religious. Each side defines the other in the most unflattering of terms, much like Democrats and Republicans. But neither side actually fits the definition, by definition. Fisher and Dean continue, quoting Cardinal Shonborn, Pope Benedict and others, pointing to less-than-monolithic agreement in the monolith of Catholicism itself:

At least twice, Pope Benedict has signaled concern about the issue…he said human beings “are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution.” [H]e called the creation of the universe an “intelligent project,” wording welcomed by supporters of intelligent design. Many Roman Catholic scientists have criticized intelligent design, among them the Rev. George Coyne, a Jesuit who is director of the Vatican Observatory. “Intelligent design isn’t science, even though it pretends to be,” he said. “Intelligent design should be taught when religion or cultural history is taught, not science.”

Note that the Rev. Coyne is trained in doing real science, as the director of an observatory. One would hope that the Vatican would have the good sense, to tap those who actually have direct experience in the lab, in-house expert resources, equipped to engage with secular scientists at a meaningful level. They might be capable of mounting a dialog in the same language, at least. The cardinal himself exhibits a slippery grasp of the language of open-minded, experimental evidence. He appears to backpedal, in a further clarification, but cannot resist implying that it is the science side, that is straying beyond their bailiwick:

Cardinal Shonborn sought to clarify his own remarks, saying he meant to question not the science of evolution but what he called evolutionism, an attempt to use the theory to refute the hand of God in creation. “I see no difficulty in joining belief in the Creator with the theory of evolution, but under the prerequisite that the borders of scientific theory are maintained,” he said… To Dr. Kenneth R, Miller, a biology professor at Brown University and a Catholic, “That is my own view as well…As long as science does not pretend it can answer spiritual questions, it’s O.K.,” he said. Dr. Facchini wrote that scientists could not rule out a divine “superior design” to creation and the history of mankind. But he said Catholic thought did not preclude a design fashioned through an evolutionary process.

Suddenly, evolution is not the issue, evolutionism is. Now we’re getting somewhere. It is assumed that this latter usage of belief is vernacular, not theological. In other words, simply believing the probability that something is true. Definitely not another Belief, competing with the belief in Creationism. But even if it were, why is it seen as such a threat? Why do religious proponents insist on treating evolution as a quasi-religious belief? Well, precisely because if it is true, foundational Christian beliefs—as peddled by the patriarchy, and pillars of their support—cannot also be true. For centuries, the predictions of science have been proven, time and time again, while the predictions of Christianity are yet to come to pass. Yet, they, Christians, demand that no one challenge their claim to divine knowledge. They insist on defining the prerequisites under which science will operate. And they prohibit any criticism of their faith, while reserving the right to criticize science. The assertion that science cannot rule out a divine, “superior design” to creation, places ID in a nearly infinite class of theories that cannot be absolutely ruled out. This dovetails neatly with the notion that theories that can be proven, beyond a reasonable doubt, such as biological evolution, are no more credible than faith in God. A theological lead-pipe cinch. At least the papal papas concede that evolution might, indeed, be a part of God’s design process. And all Catholics are not, blessedly, spouting the same talking points. It seems that there is universal, faith-based agreement on one issue: that scientists should not invade the territory of religion. One would hope that Catholic leaders, and those Christians even further to the right, would show the same respect for the territory of science. Suggesting where the lines might be drawn, in an attempt to enable resolution of the conflict, Fisher and Dean go on:

Lawrence M. Krauss, a professor of physics and astronomy at Case Western Reserve University, said Dr. Facchini’s article was important because it made the case that people did not have to abandon religious faith in order to accept the theory of evolution. “Science does not make that requirement,” he said.

Would that Religion would stop insisting upon the inverse requirement of Science. What scripture gives us clerics the authority to determine what is, or is not, a legitimate area of scientific inquiry? Again, Buddhism has little or no conflict with the findings of science. Misuse of, or misconstruing, the discoveries of science is another matter altogether. Abuse of science, in the hands of propagandists of religion, is even more problematic. It is also futile, in the context of this debate, in that it convinces no one, not already convinced.

DESIGNER GOVERNMENT Dr. Facchini’s statement, about divining a divine design that is discernable not only in the world of nature, but also the history of mankind, is a real red flag. The latter assertion re-opens an old can of worms, in which church and state are guilty of cohabitation. If Providence, as defined by Christianity, is guiding the progress of the nation anyway, why not just turn over the entire government apparatus, and our resources, to Christian leaders, ministers and priests? Think how much time and effort could be saved, by not having to conduct campaigns, and hold elections. For the more politically-oriented religious right, a group that demands national exclusivity for their particular religion—one nation under (our) God—the growth of religious diversity underway in the USA must be a pressing, if not depressing, problem. Their starting position is that Christianity is of the very fabric of the nation. It follows that it should be recognized as the only legitimate font of the nation’s laws, and governing principles. This, of course, flies in the face of the Establishment Clause, as well as in the face of logic. We might ask conservative Christians, How could so many other people be so wrong? But they will have a ready answer. Only a select few are going to survive the apocalypse. By definition, their select few: born-again Christians. To hell with the others, to put it bluntly, and literally. This attitude, while subject to much derision from the intelligentsia, is deadly serious, as Chris Hedges writes in his recent book, American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War on America. In an interview with the author, Richard Halicks begins:

When Pat Robertson calls for the assassination of the president of Venezuela, and James Dobson declares that “the homosexual agenda is a beast—it wants our kids,” and Benny Hinn announces that one day he will raise the dead if their coffins are placed in front of the TV, a certain segment of the population may grin, or wince. But a different segment of the population is listening intently and not laughing at all.

Not to mention Robertson’s recent condemnation of the victims of Haiti’s worst earthquake disaster, as holy retribution, stemming from their past embrace of voodoo, of all things. Those not laughing out loud, about all of this, are afraid, very afraid. From the interview, a dire warning:

“For those of us who find all this sort of laughable and buffoonish, it’s hard to take it seriously, and I think that’s our great failing,” says author Chris Hedges “These people are extremely dangerous.”

Mr. Halicks then points out what may be the scariest-of-all part of Hedges’ book:

[H]e claims that Robertson, Jerry Falwell et al, want to take over the country and replace our liberal democracy with a rigid theocracy. Whether the book is alarming or just alarmist is being argued vigorously online and in print. But Hedges… is unwavering. “I really fear for the country,” he said, warning that a new terrorist attack or an economic wipeout or an environmental disaster is all the opening the Christian right will need to move in and take over.

Well, we certainly have no shortage of environmental disasters lately, and there is no end in sight. Here is an extreme example of the nightmare haunting secular science, and perhaps the great middle, not-so-silent, majority: Stark fear of the triumph of religion over reason. The most recent outcropping of this potential takeover is seen in the Tea Party, with its pretensions to the mantle of our revolutionary heroes, those who started the real Revolution. Mr. Halicks points out that, while the book is controversial, it is extensively reported, the author having attended many conventions, and meetings of Christian activists. The fact that it is disturbing does not make it improbable, certainly not impossible. Americans have seen ample examples of this particular nightmare, in other areas of the world.

YOU ARE WHAT YOU BELIEVE When Americans are asked what they are, they will typically respond with a religious, or political, definition: I am a Christian; or Fiscally conservative, socially liberal; or simply Republican; Democrat; or Independent. This constitutes a reasonable, and relatively harmless, self-identity—until it ossifies into intransigence, when the individual begins to believe his or her own press. Garret Keizer reports a certain fascination with this compulsion:

Here is where we might note a critical distinction in the ways that the Democratic and Republican parties recommend themselves to their supporters. A typical Democrat offers to validate your identity…to foster the most precious notion…of the typical Democrat. I was recently the guest on a radio program…and was fascinated by the number of callers who found it necessary to identify their specific “persuasion” before making their point. “I’m a Christian progressive…but I don’t support homosexuality.” “I used to call myself an atheist…but it’s more accurate to say that I’m a syncretist.” The discussion reminded me somewhat of a St. Francis Day blessing of the animals, with one after another of the faithful carrying a set notion of him- or herself up the church steps.

Riding the crest of their recent, past popularity and power, just as it was beginning to tumble down like a house of cards, Republicans, according to Mr. Keizer, offer an appeal to the everybody loves a winner syndrome. He criticizes the new sophisticates of religion and politics, attracted by the temporarily ascendant Republican party, those who see themselves as players:

With the arguable exception of large ideological voting blocks, like evangelicals for instance, the Republican Party doesn’t offer to validate your identity. It offers to give you an identity—even if you’re an evangelical Christian. Especially if you’re an evangelical Christian. The identity it offers to give you is that of a player. If that’s what you are or want to be, then this is the party for you…We’re the players. We play the game that the big boys do.

With the ascendance of the Democrats, some of these players may be looking to be traded, or opting for free agency. From the perspective of Zen, this over-zealous attachment to politics, both for the elected and their entourage, is highly suspect. Political and other cultural accretions, that become mixed up with the fundamental self, are often the first to drop away, under the scrutiny of zazen, resulting in a kind of liberation from external factors. In Zen, the issue of identity is approached directly, and deeply, in meditation. The acculturated self, developed through formative years, interacting with family, and society, is itself called into question. The political self, if we can use such a construction, is, usually, a relative late-bloomer, though there have been some disturbing examples of preteen conservative prodigals in the press.

REPUBLIC OF RELIGION The attraction to political power, and the desire to be on the winning side, contradicts the other half of the player’s personality, that side usually considered religious, or at least spiritual:

The player’s relationship to religion is necessarily complex…He is attracted to the religious promise of transcendence, exemption from death, consequence, chaos, whatever stands as an obstacle to his whims. But the player balks at religion too, for its suggestion that there is such a thing as hubris. He hates the very idea…In respect to the god of tragedy, all players are atheists. The contemporary way of professing this unbelief is the popular dinner party disclaimer: “I’m very spiritual but I’m not religious at all.” I’m a player, in other words. Religion is too much work.

The relevant question is, as always, do you see yourself in this picture? How much work, after all, is involved in the exercise of religion? In Keizer’s dismissive description of worst-case shirkers, the player relies on the savior to do the heavy lifting: “In the extreme version, the ‘saved’ become players, with Jesus consigned to the role of their Uncle Guido.” Keizer concludes with an absurd, if telling, anecdote. It illustrates the immaculate consummation of the marriage of church and state, for the good old US of A: As for us, our Godfather is in heaven. Or maybe in the White House. I am not being glib. A woman I know recently returned from a CBA convention (formerly… Christian Booksellers Association…) where she saw posters of George W. Bush in the robes of a prophet, perhaps those of Jesus himself, healing the wounds of the nation. Thus the president merges with his Favorite Philosopher; the electors with the Elect.

The Divine Right of Kings dies a long and ugly death, and is reborn again, and again. With each new generation of elected saviors, the sheep stampede to be the first on board the ark of the covenant, swearing that they shall have no other gods before their Party. As long, that is, as their party stays in power, and continues to privilege them with first-class cabin status. Growth in the percentage of the electorate self-declared as independents, indicates declining faith in the power of the parties.

DIVINE DEMOCRACY Joseph Loconte, Research fellow in religion at the Heritage Foundation and a commentator for NPR, reports on recent past, frantic efforts of liberals to catch up to the perceived lead, in claims of superior spirituality, of conservatives:

An event for liberal politicians and advocates at the University of California at Berkeley in July even offered a seminar titled “I Don’t Believe in God, but I Know America Needs a Spiritual Left.” A look at the tactics and theology of the religious left, however, suggests that this is exactly what American politics does not need. If Democrats give religious progressives a stronger voice, they’ll only replicate the misdeeds of the religious right.

Fighting hellfire with hellfire may not be the best prescription for political success, and do thou likewise should not be applied indiscriminately. Bending the scripture to political expediency will have unanticipated consequences, as Mr. Loconte warns:

For starters, we’ll see more attempts to draw a direct line from the Bible to a political agenda. The Rev. Jim Wallis, a popular adviser to leading Democrats… routinely advises this kind of Bible-thumping. In his book “God’s Politics,” Mr. Wallis insists that his faith-based platform transcends partisan categories. “We affirm God’s vision of a good society offered to us by the prophet Isaiah,” he writes. Yet Isaiah, an agent of divine judgment living in a theocratic state, conveniently affirms every spending scheme of the Democratic Party. This is no different than the fundamentalist impulse to cite the book of Leviticus to justify laws against homosexuality. When Christians—liberal or conservative—invoke a biblical theocracy as a handy guide to contemporary politics, they threaten our democratic discourse.

What’s sauce for the goose sometimes cooks the gander. Bad enough, that a major political party panders to spiritual yearnings for heaven on earth. Worse yet that both parties aspire to its leadership seated at the right hand of God. Rev. Jim Wallis has, since this report, chaired the first-ever Faith Caucus meeting at the DNC Convention, and as a speaker, generated considerable controversy amongst the secular faithful. Not enough to prevent the 2008 election of their candidate, however. There are upsides as well as downsides to the reasoned relationship of politics and religion, as Loconte continues:

Christians are right to argue that the Bible is a priceless source of moral and spiritual insight. But they’re wrong to treat it as a substitute for a coherent political philosophy. Evangelicals begin with the Bible’s account of the God-given dignity of every person. And they’ve joined hands with liberal and secular groups to defend the rights of the vulnerable and oppressed…In each case believers have applied their religious ideals with a strong dose of realism and generosity.

Preaching morality, or promoting spirituality, does not necessarily lead to establishing either via legislation. That morality cannot be legislated is widely regarded as wisdom, yet some dead-enders keep trying. The engaged program of evangelicals in doing good works, sans coversion, is consonant with Buddhism’s view of individual and social action. How can any faith, or sect, claim to be true religion, if it is not grounded in realism, and generosity? Loconte concludes, that what is called for, is a balance of the secular, and the sacred. Utopia is, then, not necessarily a return to the Garden of Eden:

A completely secular public square is neither possible nor desirable; democracy needs the moral ballast of religion. But a partisan campaign to enlist the sacred is equally wrongheaded. When people of faith join political debates, they must welcome those democratic virtues that promote the common good: prudence, reason, compromise —and a realization that politics can’t usher in the kingdom of heaven.

Indeed, only a transcendence of politics-as-usual can serve as usher in this revolutionary theater. But it is questionable that the ballast of morality stems from religion. The real revolution is the one that transpires in the mind, and heart, of the individual. In that inner sanctum, there is no separation of religion, and politics. In Zen, the entrance, to the inner sanctum, is called a dharma gate. It can be entered through meditation, but political baggage has to be left outside the gate.

DISSENSION AMONGST THE PEWS Those who are not actively religious, may regard those who are, as a monolithic them. But there is also dissension, healthy or not, amongst the ranks of Catholics, as seen above, as well as Protestants, as witness the recent public row within the Southern Baptist Convention. Evidence of a broad and deep crack within the Baptist monolith emerged, as ex-presidents Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton announced the founding of a new Baptist convention, to make room for themselves and others disaffected by the hard-line approach of the SBC. We might reasonably predict that an increase in such divisiveness within religious sects, will spawn a like increase in dissension without as well, greater enmity between the major religions themselves. This seems to be the case, with the age-old conflict between Islam and Christianity. Perhaps it is also helping to fuel the flame of interfaith dialog, which likewise seems to be heating up. A major accelerant has to be the war with Islamic extremists, current reincarnation of the Great Crusade, and the eternal warfare of Orwell’s 1984.19 His fictional war is now all too real, more than a quarter of a century from the date of the title. It appears, to the man-on-the-street, much as Orwell’s did: sporadically in full-color TV; narrated play-by-play; featuring propaganda-laden, good guy, bad guy scoreboard tallies; with color commentary by generals playing musical chairs. Odd, isn’t it, how wars tend to inspire a sudden, almost obscene but belated, interest in the culture, language, even the diet, of the enemy du jour? An interest heretofore sorely lacking in the general populace. Prior to the onset of hostilities, trumpeted as Shock and Awe, the media displayed a studied disinterest in Islamic culture. Nor was it top-of-mind for most religious commentators. And, ironically but predictably, the onset of hostilities paralleled an equally hostile purge of the very folks in the Intelligence bureaucracy who could help the most, Arabic-speaking apparatchiks who, fatally, happen to be gay. War tends to command a comparatively long attention span, in the 24-hour news cycle, like rubbernecking at a car wreck. At a safe distance, of course. Ignoring the morbid aspect of this fascination, perhaps there is a silver lining, behind even this darkest of clouds. At least, coverage is given to something significantly more dire than abortion, gay marriage, prayer in schools, and immigration, the rotating rolodex of hot-button issues. Perhaps, one day, we will all come to study war no more. If so, it is likely to be out of sheer boredom, fatigued by overexposure. War surely begins with the self, animated by fear; whether between nations, tribes, or individuals. Consider the warring factions, in the Sci-ID debate under examination. Religious folk, while differing amongst themselves, are unified by a common fear, that of the success of secularism in society, with the accompanying failure of Religion. Secularists, on the other hand, appear to dread the ascendance of monolithic religious groups, particularly in areas of influence normally outside the purview of religion, with concomitant failure, or fatal delay, in the advance of Science. These latter are not fears of diversity, but quite its opposite: creeping, and coerced, homogeneity. But this same, secular concern, over pressure to conform, also arises within the ranks of the religious; which explains some of the factionalist infighting. Their alarm is most acute when triggered by their more fundamentalist fellows, as revealed in a column by Lorenzo Albacete, a Roman Catholic priest, in the NYT (emphasis by author):

Benedict’s conversations with non-believers have convinced him that their major concern about Christianity is not its “other-worldliness” but the very opposite…what makes Christianity potentially dangerous as a source of conflict and intolerance in a pluralistic society is its insistence that faith is reasonable—that is, that it is the source of knowledge about this world and that, therefore, its teaching should apply to all, believers and non-believers alike.

Here is an unintended downside, to the proposition that religion, or faith, should be regarded as reasonable, or rational. If it is, everyone should be coerced to subscribe to it. Yet another motivating factor, justifying resistance to right-wing self-righteousness. Non-believers fear that proselytizers insist that their religion is, or should be, secular in its larger purpose. Many Christians, and clearly Muslims, believe that their beliefs have relevance, and direct application, to the secular world. This is viscerally repellant to members of other religions, as well as to the non-religious. Not only does activist religion not turn its back on the secular world; it is driven to reshape that world, in its own image. This same impulse may be read into Buddhism’s promotion of world peace, its advocacy of stewardship for the planet and its inhabitants. But engaged Buddhism is not driven by a need to impose the Buddhist good, in order to combat the heathen evil of the non-Buddhist world. And it does not insist upon Buddhist hegemony, which seems to be the driving force behind the good intentions of Christianity, as Fr. Albacete points out:

Indeed, throughout history Christians have used this claim to justify their intolerance of other views, even turning to violence in order to affirm and defend their idea of what is true. The events of Sept. 11, 2001, reminded us that this unhappy tendency was not limited to the Christian faith, but seems inherent in religious belief. If a god offers absolute truth, then those who disagree with that god’s teaching are enemies of the truth, and thus harmful to society. It makes no difference whether the intolerance comes from a Christian god, who punishes countries and cities with natural disasters [as well-known Christian rightwing televangelists have claimed], or a Muslim god, who encourages terrorists to kill the innocent [according to some Islamic religious leaders].

There go those pesky, recalcitrant, polarized religio-politico bedfellows again. Amongst theistic believers, this tendency toward intolerance, when it becomes a compulsion, puts the lie to our professed faith in an all-powerful creator. It suggests that our God cannot competently manage His affairs, without human intervention. Such believers become enforcers; such intolerance becomes intolerable.

ABSOLUTE RELATIVE UNCERTAINTY In a companion column, defending the values of the secularist, against criticisms of relativism from the new pope, Austin Dacey, author of a forthcoming book on secular conscience in public life, asks the question, “Is relativism [just] another word for uncertainty?”:

Just before he became pope, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger [Pope Benedict XVI] warned that Western culture was sliding toward “a dictatorship of relativism which does not recognize anything as for certain and which has as its highest goal one’s own ego and one’s own desires.” What Pope Benedict calls relativism are actually the values of secular liberalism: individual autonomy, equal rights and freedom of conscience. But it is easy to conflate what liberals affirm with the way they affirm it. Liberalism tells us that our way of life is up to us (within limits), not that the truth of liberalism is up to us. It entails that we tolerate even claims that we doubt, not that we doubt even the claims of tolerance. Many liberals themselves are guilty of this confusion, which can manifest as all-values-are- equal relativism.

We might suggest that recognizing “anything as for certain,” particularly the presumed preeminence of dictates of the Holy See is, in fact, the kernel of the problem seen here. In the interest of fairness, we might point out that conservatives are also perfectly capable of similar distortions. Such as that theirs are the only values worth considering. While we are at it, we might also point out, that a dictatorship requires a dictator, even if creation does not require a creator. So just who is this dictatorial person or group, the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain of this “dictatorship of relativism”? Who, exactly, does the pope-to-be accuse of benefiting from it relativism’s autonomy, equal rights and freedoms? While Mr. Dacey recognizes the unintended consequences of liberalism-gone-awry, too often resulting in abject political correctness; and fails to mention conservatism-gone-awry, too often resulting in abject corporate collusion; he nonetheless stakes out a domain for the application of secular values, separate from that for values of the church:

Indeed, it’s hard to build a decent society without secular values, and “Deus Caritas Est” acknowledges this: “A just society must be the achievement of politics, not of the church,” where politics is “the sphere of the autonomous use of reason.” The role of the church is to “bring about openness of mind and will to the demands of the common good,” not to “impose on those who do not share the faith ways of thinking and modes of conduct proper to faith.” The important contrast is not between absolutism and relativism, as the pontiff would have it, but between secular values and their traditional religious alternatives. He can accuse secularists of believing in the wrong things. But that is not the same as believing in nothing.

The church disavows any responsibility for achieving a just society, other than softening up the mind, and will, of its parishioners. Rather like the heavy artillery, working over the enemy, before the invasion of the ground troops. At least, here is an admission, that what the church does is, clearly, not dependent on reason. As opposed to politics, where what it does, hopefully is. But its use of reason is hardly autonomous. The polity is anything but self-governing. Witness the congress in action. If you can tolerate it. We might detect a glimmering, in Deus Caritas Est, of a rapprochement of reason and religion. Political reason is to be applied to the establishment of the just society; religion is to be applied to the establishment of an open, cooperative person; in turn enabling a just society. But the church is not to impose its “ways of thinking and modes of conduct” upon the hoi polloi. Would that they would not. This sounds a lot like Zen Buddhism, wherein the objective of training the individual mind, and autonomous will, is primary. However, it is not based, at all, on believing, as such, either in something, or in nothing. The middle way is based on experience, which has a way of tempering unquestioning belief. Through experiential training, in Zen meditation, we develop patience with our own self, as well as with others. This, in turn, helps to align our personal needs with the “demands of the common good.” But common good smacks a bit of Marxism, a bit more intellectual, and impersonal, than the personal embrace of compassion, in Buddhism. The common good also implies that peoples’ needs, and interests, are really held in common. Which is rarely the case these days, it seems.

GOD IN COURT One frequent flashpoint in the debate, is the attempted insertion of church doctrine into organs and operations of the state, particularly those of the judicial branch. Proponents of the union of Christian tenets and democratic law, would like to redefine certain documents as historical, rather than religious in provenance, as mentioned above. One reader of the AJC writes:

I believe our state should pass House Bill 941 to authorize counties and municipalities to display the Ten Commandments, the Mayflower Compact and the Declaration of Independence. These are vital and sobering documents whose place in our history should be prominently displayed. For those who are offended by the Ten Commandments being in public facilities, there’s no obligation to look at it or acknowledge its presence. It still deserves to be recognized as a historical document. D. P.

Note the choice of I believe as the lead-in to the message. In the vernacular, the phrase is used as a catch-all for an opinion, or worldview, by atheist, agnostic, virtually anyone. But in the hands, or mouth, of a believer, it is brandished as a badge of authority. As in the bumper-sticker: The Bible says it; I believe it; that settles it. What con men call a tell, a dead giveaway. Its overuse, and exaggeratedly somber pronunciation, gives away the card-carrying, litmus-test credentials of the True Believers, long before they even get to their point, which is going to be a predictable talking-point. This phrasing has also become code, in the War on Secularism, used by politicians to co-opt the conservative constituency in public addresses. When a politico starts off with a preacher-man’s I believe…followed by a dramatic pause and solemn gaze scanning the audience, it sends a signal—that the speaker is a believer; no matter the content of the following statement. We need no decoder ring to translate the secret message. A different choice of words, such as I suggest or In my opinion would signal the possibility of a non-believer’s flexibility of mind, regarding the particular subject under consideration. But here, there is no doubt where the statement is going. I believe it, so it has to be so. And any right-thinking person, my intended audience, also believes as I do, it is presumed. If those of us on the side of Christianity in the debate would expunge the compulsive convention, I believe, and the habitual hiccup of referencing God, it would go a long way toward persuading our opponents to at least listen. Believe implies an unexamined, yet unimpeachable, certainty as to what follows; which is, after all, only our personal opinion. If it is what we believe, we imply that it is not subject to critical analysis. God, in every, or every other, sentence, conveys the impression that we are not confident in our ability to defend our opinion, without resort to the ultimate authority. It suggests that our opinion may indeed be a bit shaky, in the light of reason, or on the merits of the case. Invocation of Belief, to buttress mere opinion, and of God, to give it authority, also smacks of a smug presumption: that listeners are either already in agreement with us, or should be. Or, worse, that we, who know better, feel free to rub our listeners’ noses in our faith. This relieves the speaker of exercising any think before you speak reasonable caution. This criticism applies mainly to zealots truly devoted to converting the heathen. Which, ironically, neatly excuses the zealotry. The categorical error of including the Ten Commandments with the other documents cited, should be obvious, even to the letter writer; certainly to the authors of HB 941. Lumping them together is surely an intentional, if ineffective, diversionary tactic, however lofty the motive. Religious documents, though historical, are not foundational to the nation of the United States. It is revealing that the bill conveniently excludes the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. If included, the Constitution would inconveniently proscribe the proposed display of sectarian documents in a governmental venue, rendering the bill contradictory, and self-defeating.

PAN-RELIGIOUS PRECEPTS It should not come as a surprise Christians, who revere the Ten Commandments, to learn that other religions have similar statements of idealized behavior, such as the Ten Grave Precepts of Buddhism. The Buddhist Precepts are not commandments, however. The terms we use in English may be questionable translations of the original, as is often the case with Hebrew or Greek in the Bible, according to scholars. Commandment has the perhaps unfortunate connotation of force; as of a military command, or a fiat issued by government. Fiat also has the connotation of arbitrariness, of a whim. Some religious critics consider at least certain of the Ten Commandments contextually arbitrary, though they must have had some relevance in their time and place. The particularity of the first commandment, as gently lampooned by Richard Dawkins, in The God Delusion, is a source of friction, even in our time; when, to be of a different religion, suggests that one necessarily worships a different god:

To my naïve eyes, ‘Thou shalt have no other gods but me’ would seem an easy enough commandment to keep: a doddle, one might think, compared with ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife’. Or her ass. (Or her ox.) Yet throughout the Old Testament, with the same predictable regularity as in bedroom farce, God had only to turn his back for a moment and the Children of Israel would be off and at it with Baal, or some trollop of a graven image. Or, on one calamitous occasion, a golden calf…

Astoundingly explicit, in the very first of the Christian Commandments, is the absolute certainty that human beings can, and will, get the God thing wrong. That is, God may be imagined, by humans, to exist in any number of forms and manifestations, all of them completely false. Except, of course, for the One engraving the stone tablets, with his godly hammer and chisel. So, how does one know, for sure, that the Christian God, the God of Abraham and Moses, is not also a misconception? And that the real God will punish us for the same mistake, and may already be doing so? It is a small but ominous leap, from the idea that individuals would choose to be governed by commandments, to the notion that the entire society should be governed by someone’s interpretation of those commandments. Even, or especially, if imputed to the God that one conceives to be the one and only real God. If we can get the God thing wrong, how much more likely that we can get His commandments wrong? There are, at minimum, ten times as many chances for error, after all. And there are, already, multiple interpretations in the historical record. Not to mention what can be lost in translation. Proselytizing, conversion-driven religious sects, notably of Christianity and Islam, have a kind of compulsion in common: the imperative to impose upon others, their rules and regulations. It is not surprising, then, that they find their crusades in direct opposition. It is Saladin, all over again. If there is only one true God, and Christianity’s is not the same as Islam’s, something has got to give. As always, what has to give is the lives and fortunes of the poor pawns on the playing field, read the killing fields, the very souls the crusaders are supposedly devoted to saving. Zen Buddhism may be the least prone to proselytizing among the world’s religions. It is a grass- roots, ground-up movement, where its acolytes proactively seek out their communities of fellow practitioners and teachers. Teachers, preachers, or priests of Zen do not go forth to convert the masses. The transmission of Zen’s wisdom is face-to-face, from teacher to student, with little overarching hierarchy. It is the opposite of a cult, in that each individual is empowered. Its spiritual truth is the birthright of each person, not the exclusive possession of an inner circle of clergy. As such, it is beyond democratic. It is nearly anarchic. Its meditation is its saving grace, providing the requisite degree of discipline and order.

TAKING IT TO THE SCHOOLS Another AJC article, titled Bible Study; Filtering out religion a recipe for blandness, by Michael J. Broyde, Law professor at Emory University Center for the Study of Law and Religion, reports on the latest local Trojan Horse proposed to introduce Christianity into the public school system:

Three state senators last week proposed a bill that would authorize a “nonsectarian, nonreligious academic study of the Bible and its influence on literature, art, music, culture, and politics.”…teaching the Bible as a form of literature or history… does not intrude…on separation of church…The Bible can be taught…in a public school —but it cannot be taught as sacred text. The sacred nature of the text would seem to be an interpretive nuance, dependent upon the religious leanings, and presentation, of the particular teacher, rather than on legislation. Religion, if taught as a subject, e.g. comparative religion, including the Bible, has as much place in the schools as science. Science, taught as a belief, has no more place in the schools than religion. In this light, it is clear that content is not the issue. Beliefs, religious or otherwise, have no place in the curriculum. It is not what is presented, but how it is presented, that matters. But arguing that, of all the religious literature in the world, the Bible alone should be studied, is a transparent ploy. But whether or not this should be allowed, is not the main point of the article. Mr. Broyde points out the futility of any proselytizing program, such as Bible study in the schools, even if it succeeds. The Achilles heel, sure to subvert whatever agenda is behind the legislative putsch, is simple human nature. Specifically, the nature of young students, public or private:

I suspect that this approach—the only one the law will permit—would make no students happy or educated, would produce lackluster courses, bore the students and satisfy no one. If this Bible course is just another elective, after a short while no one will take it. One group of students seeks to study the Bible religiously, focusing on it as the moral touchstones of their life. The study of the Bible as an article of faith is generally not compatible with its examination through secular eyes. On the other hand, those students who are comfortably secular hardly view the Bible as a document worthy of study. We live in a society in which religious texts and study are not ideas that unite us.

A behavioral principle, one that differentiates Zen from proselytizing religions: You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him believe in it. Broyde concludes with a simple refutation of the crusaders’ underlying premise: “Simply put, Bible study no longer unites us.” Another thing that no longer unites us is our elected dividers, parading as uniters. Moving any issue to the floors of congress is one sure way to ensure that it is not fairly debated. If we can create reality by legislating it into being, we don’t really have to prove anything. We just have to muster the votes. But debate is only actually won through persuasion, not arm-twisting and jawboning. It wins the hearts and minds of opponents.

HONEST DEBATE This, along with other examples, notably the well-publicized trial in Dover (see Intelligent Evolution), indicate that there is something fundamentally disingenuous in religious right activists’ approach to the debate. Their outright assertion, that science is also based on faith, but of a different kind, is either an expression of profound ignorance, or pointed propaganda. Not that there is not a kind of faith operative in pursuing science, or any other human endeavor; but it is not helpful, and clearly self-serving in this context, to pretend that all forms of faith are equivalent, i.e. equally arbitrary. Attempting to level the playing field in this manner discounts, or ignores, the seminal meaning of evidence in science. This ploy equates religious beliefs, based on little more than scripture and wishful thinking, with scientific findings. In an inter-faith dialog, we would work toward agreement regarding definitions of evidence, versus belief. Bu for even an inter-faith dialog to be meaningful, there can not be Buddhists and Christians, ultimately, but only real people, looking for common ground, and in good faith. Labels, such as Christian, and Buddhist, have to be set aside, to have a real dialog. Likewise, terms such as scientist, secularist, materialist, reductionist, non-believer, atheist, test-tuber; or theist, deist, God-fearing, believer, Bible-thumper. These terms, reduced to name-calling, have to be jettisoned, to get beyond the superficial. Exploring this terrain requires a communication process considerably more considered than coining a bumper sticker, or a sound bite.

IMAGINARY PERSECUTION One of the most egregious misuses of language, and one that betrays the bankruptcy of the very argument, is the claim of persecution made by contemporary Christians in the US. James Evans, pastor of Auburn First Baptist Church of Auburn, Alabama, writes:

Nothing has become more tiresome in recent years than the incessant claim by many conservative Christians that they are being persecuted. Every time a church/state issue comes to the fore, a gaggle of Christian activists shows up preening in front of television cameras and whining about the war on Christianity. It’s a plot, they tell us, perpetrated by the American Civil Liberties Union and God-haters everywhere, to remove any sign of Christianity from culture. But is that really true? Is Christianity some persecuted minority that is under attack? With Christian leaders in high office everywhere, including the White House, is there any real danger that Christianity will somehow be erased from the American landscape?

Especially when the occupant of the White House at this time was a born-again, reformed alcoholic, who considers Jesus the greatest philosopher. Virtually all non-Christian candidates for the top office need not apply. Catholics and Mormons, maybe. His successor, like every other American president, is a professed Christian as well. It is the ultimate in litmus tests. But since when is Christianity a political movement? The insistence that the US is a Christian country, and that its foundation is based on the Bible, raises one of the most potent fears, for secularists and members of other religions: the establishment of a theocracy, replacing the grand experiment that is our Democratic Republic. Over-reacting in alarm, to perceived threats to Christianity, again raises the question: If God is all-powerful, what needs defending? If God is, indeed, what Christians profess God to be, the all- powerful designer, who has it all worked out, how could He need defending? The very war on Christianity would have to be God’s will, unless He is not all-powerful. Could the knee-jerk rallying to God’s defense, instead, be a reflection of His defenders’ lack of conviction in their own belief? Evans clarifies the difference, between persecution and the separation clause, but his preaching is probably not going to persuade anyone already in the choir, unfortunately:

The U. S. Constitution expressly prohibits government from endorsing a particular religion. It was the Founders’ intent to keep religion out of government… But that’s not persecution. In fact, Christianity has thrived in the freedom created by our legal system. That’s why in most neighborhoods in America there is a church on nearly every corner. Of course, it’s not really about being persecuted. It’s about not being in control.

Ah yes, the delusion of control. There may be a justification for the perception of persecution, caused by simple attrition. Churches are losing their young, to alternative religious and spiritual practices, that are thriving under those self-same freedoms. Children are legally free to choose another religious path. This is a real conundrum for freedom-professing, but soul-saving, Christians. It puts them in a real bind. We can’t help but wonder, when, and if, it would it ever be enough? When every man, woman, and child, from sea to shining sea, converts to some form of Christianity? Or is the whole world, finally, a conversion field for bringing unbelievers to our faith? The Second Coming will see the greatest inauguration party ever, ushering in the first and final, Holy Worldwide Administration. With our candidate winning by a landslide. The media yield ample evidence of pro-Christian bias underlying American culture. Popular movies (e.g. Ghost) and television programs (e.g. Saving Grace) often feature Christian-oriented themes, that, once again, presume concurrence from the audience, affirmed or not, by the ratings. They usually portray a saccharine, sympathetic, and sentimental version of popular beliefs associated with Christianity. The target audience presumably swallows the premise (read fantasy) underlying doctrinal plot devices, all uncritically. These include the existence of evil incarnate; punishment in hell; the reality of miracles; intervention of angels; efficacy of prayer, to name a few. For non-Christians, the ubiquitous prevalence of Christian themes is most obvious, tedious and unwelcome, tolerated overall. The same conservative folks that argue against too much centralized democracy, and in favor of decentralized rights of the republic, appear ready enough to accept the tyranny of the majority, in its palpable pressure to cultural conformity and resultant, de facto censorship. This mindset also tends to disdain diversity as anti-American, special-interest, as seen in anti- immigration fervor. The dismissive America, Love it or leave it is no more Christian, Buddhist, or compassionate today, than it was in the Vietnam era. If America is not the melting pot as advertised, it might at least aspire to becoming a chafing dish.

GOD IN AND ON SCHOOL There is ample opportunity to challenge the chutzpah with which true believers claim to speak for God, as touched on above. The following example appeared on the AJC editorial page, during the Southern Baptist Convention, written by a retired Air Force general, and editor of the Baptist Banner, a journal. Please forgive the tone of our commentary following the quotes, if it seems overwrought. It is intentionally so, to meet fire with fire. The attitude of this apparently influential figure so completely captures all that is wrong with the worst extremes of self-righteousness, that it is worth dissecting almost word-for-word. In doing so, we may lay bare the bones of the proselytizing, evangelizing beast. In a letter to the editor, the good general clearly feels certain of his ground, based on his, or his denomination’s, reading of the Bible. But he inadvertently reveals the fears impelling the religious right’s holy war with secularism, over the schooling of children, while exposing their defining trait, an intransigent inflexibility of mind:

…it is not surprising that many people consider any suggestion to remove our children from government schools as way off the wall. However, the government school system we know today is not the way God commands our children to be educated. In the Bible, God assigns responsibility for educating children to parents, not to the government. Therefore… Christians must decide whether to obey God or refuse to do so.

It is surprising to hear so didactic a tone from someone who has risen to the rank of general, in what some consider to be the most elite branch of the armed services. But a related development suggests that this mindset is not unique to the general. The Air Force Academy has recently been in the news, for aggressively proselytizing their members to convert to Christianity. So this particular way of thinking may be more widespread than one would think, or hope. Perhaps it is the result of all that high flying; Nearer, my God, to thee. Or more fittingly, Icarus, revisited. Again, note the emphasis on command, and its implied control, not surprising in a military man. But the sheer lack of humility in the assertions, the claim to know the will of God, undermines more germane points in his message, such as criticism of the “government school system,” another telling phrase. Therefore is used in an absolutely conclusive sense, as in 1+1=2. As if it follows that his interpretation of God’s will is beyond challenge, just because he said so. And thus and therefore, his conclusion about what folks must then do about it, is likewise unimpeachable. Obeying God means obeying the general. This is what passes for faith, these days. Faith in the inerrancy of the Bible, compounded by faith in the inerrancy of our interpretation of it. It is such smugness, planted firmly between a rock and a hard place, that prevents any real movement. This is where the dialog has to begin, within each person facing up to, and bringing to the table, their own doubts. It requires that we all set aside comfortable certainties. The general then asserts that education, absent God, amounts to no education at all, reminiscent of the pope’s attempted evisceration of secular intelligence (emphasis by author): A second basic consideration is that God is omnipresent, and his omnipresence is not only spatial (that is, he is everywhere) but also topical. All human knowledge springs from God. Full understanding of every subject taught in any school requires the incorporation of God into the curriculum… Omitting god, we are like a horse wearing blinders: we still see clearly but only part of the landscape before us.

The construction “a second basic consideration…” implies that the first comment is also not merely assertion, but basic, i.e. unquestionably true, without critical examination. He allows for no consideration, of what is basic, at all, actually. To consider something is to weigh the pros and cons. To give careful consideration is the opposite of blatantly stating the omnipresence of God, take it or leave it. Here is another confusion of what is actually a foregone conclusion, with what is deemed reasoned analysis. Beliefs, stated as premises, again presuming that the audience believes likewise. From this perspective, encompassing “every subject taught in any school,” we would have to conclude that, unless public schools become Christian madrasas, with the Bible as the only text, the font of all wisdom, secular as well as religious; they may as well be shut down. Next, he matter-of- factly discloses a sobering, and deeply disturbing, secular goal of the far right, masquerading as benign: public schools as fertile, evangelizing fields, for Christian children to convert other children (emphasis by author):

One of the most common objections to Christians withdrawing their children from government schools is that they then will not have the opportunity to evangelize unsaved classmates.

Breathtaking in its audacious candor, that a leader trained in stealth would publicly disclose what should be a hidden agenda, a plan of attack. But then, God is on our side, not to worry. There are so many things wrong with this idea, that we do not know where to begin. Where is it written, that the role of children in school is to spread the gospel, rather than to learn? Is this to be found in the Bible? Along with the commandment to home-school? The apostolic imperative is a serious enough business, that surely they would not send little boys and girls to do the job of grown men and women. The general then laments that this militaristic goal is being thwarted, by mass desertion of the very generation of Christian soldiers their shepherds are relying on, a disaster for the campaign of converting their own generation:

In 2002 the Southern Baptist Council on Family Life reported to the SBC annual meeting that 88 percent of children raised in evangelical homes leave church at the age of 18, never to return. Any army that suffers 88 percent loss is defeated disastrously. We cannot hope to win the world to Christ without a major change in the preparation and education of our children.

No wonder. You have to worry and wonder more, about the other 12 percent. Children have more than enough to deal with, just getting an adequate education, let alone implementing the hidden agenda of their parents’ church, the salvation of the world, no less. All within the playing field, remember, of the pathetically inadequate schools the general excoriates. What major change he has in mind remains unspecified. But we can assume it would involve one or more of the following: converting public schools to de facto churches; failing that, removing Christian children from public schools; universal home schooling; or finding a way to force them to stay in the church. Perhaps a K-12 lockdown, in a high-security, church-school-rehab-correctional center. With a 24 by 7 schedule, separate boys’ and girls’ barracks, all snugly ensconced in a razor-wire compound. That should do the trick. Get them ready for the real world. Unclear, also, is exactly how any such major change would not be as disagreeable as the current failing approach is, apparently, to the 88 percent. Let alone the remaining 12. The real reason that so many children raised in evangelical homes leave their parents’ church, may have more to do with a healthy, juvenile skepticism. Students of all schools tend to develop a jaundiced eye to their parents’ worldview. The exodus is, likely, largely the outgrowth of natural maturation. As such, its resolution will not easily prove amenable to changes to evangelist pedagogy, especially that the general might propose. The comment, “We cannot hope to win the world to Christ without a major change in the preparation and education of our children” portends a strategy to take back our schools, including funding the privatization of sectarian education with public funds, another not-so-hidden agenda. Public schools, as a secular haven, are, after all, judged a complete waste of time and money, since they are doing nothing to save little souls. Many, however, would agree with the general’s negative assessment of public schools:

Watching media reports, what do we see happening in our government schools? Decreasing academic achievement, decreasing discipline, increasing immorality, increasing violence, poorer standards of dress, increasingly uncouth language.

Depends on where you look. Most media coverage is not likely to accentuate the positive. However many might agree with the knee-jerk criticism, just as many, or more, might take exception to his analysis of the original cause, of the lamentable state of affairs (emphasis by author):

American state schools were begun in Massachusetts in the 1830s by a group composed largely of wealthy Unitarians whose goal was to eliminate religion from education. This was the original purpose of government schools, and they have achieved remarkable success. Who knew? Unitarians are the cause of all the trouble. We might be forgiven for presuming that the “original purpose” of local, state and federal government mandates that provide for the public education of its communities’ children, would have aimed a little higher than the elimination of religion. Forgive us for milking this letter for all it is worth, but it is such an outstandingly concise example of our most entrenched attitudes, and recalcitrant mindset, at one extreme of the debate, that we couldn’t resist. The secular side may include examples just as egregious, but it would be difficult to find one more extreme. The publication of such a letter surely has the opposite effect the general intends, if the intention is to persuade. The very title, God wants us home schooled (most likely penned by the op-ed page editor) invites ridicule, as does the fire-and-brimstone tone affected by the general himself.

UNHOLY WRIT The Bible may indeed mandate home schooling by parents, who can definitely say? But applying it literally to today requires sweeping indifference to real-world differences. Circumstances facing today’s parents and students don’t compare with the world that informed the Bible. Were there any public schools, in those days? Did any public institutions even approximate today’s meaning of school, or curriculum? From the perspective of the secular, agreement with the general’s thesis is further undermined by skepticism regarding the validity of the Bible itself, as the infallible word of God. Secularists, followers of other religions, even rational Christians, suspect that, with all due respect, the Bible’s actual and only authors were fallible human beings, however much under the sway of spiritual epiphany. Again, Richard Dawkins:

To be fair, much of the Bible is not systematically evil but just plain weird, as you would expect of a chaotically cobbled-together anthology of disjointed documents, composed, revised, translated, distorted and ‘improved’ by hundreds of anonymous authors, editors and copyists, unknown to us and mostly unknown to each other, spanning nine centuries. This may explain some of the sheer strangeness of the Bible. But unfortunately it is this same weird volume that religious zealots hold up to us as the inerrant source of our morals and rules for living.

Mr. Dawkins is known as one of the new atheists, who are often portrayed as foam-at-the- mouth radicals, out to stamp out the Scourge of Religion. But compared to many defenders of religion, such as the good general, he seems the veritable voice of reason. Perhaps the zealot is in the eye of the beholder; it takes one to out one. When mere mortals claim to speak for God; even, or especially, when based on scripture; a skeptical reaction is knee-jerk predictable. It is a self-defeating weakness of those of us on the Christian team, as aforementioned, that we cannot resist referring to God’s authority, as if we are preaching to the choir, rather than arguing a point in a debate. The appeal to scriptural authority does not persuade the other side, and so should be abandoned, if persuasion is our objective. Of course, the truth is that neither side is out to persuade the other. Both are playing to the peanut gallery, those willing to pay for the entertainment. The most either side can hope to accomplish is to win the contest, not the debate, by swaying public, or political, opinion. In the meantime, the drill is to keep the choir singing if not the same hymn, at lest from the same hymnal. Buddhism’s written record, like that of Christianity, was not contemporaneous with Buddha’s lifetime, first appearing some four centuries after his death. It was, reportedly, considered too sacred to commit to writing. And, once scripture escapes the oral tradition, and is written down, it becomes subject to editing, and victim of revision. One scribe can decide to reinterpret the material being copied; to embellish, to conform it to current ideas. The process of historical revisionism then proceeds apace, and continues to today. This is one reason that Zen emphasizes direct experience, over scripture. Each Ancestor in the lineage is vouchsafed complete discretion, to reinterpret the record for their students, based on their direct insight. This is not, however, a scholarly, or politically-motivated, re-evaluation of received wisdom.

FERTILE GROUND Side-by-side with the general’s screed, a column by the executive director of the Baptist Center for Ethics, Robert Parham, offers a more moderate view. Two resolutions were then coming before the SBC for approval (emphasis by author):

One urges Southern Baptists “to remove their children from the government schools,” which it asserts are “officially godless.” Both see public schools as mission fields — places where Christians are needed to witness to pagans. One resolution even refers to schoolteachers as “missionaries to unbelieving colleagues and students.”

So far, this confirms the thrust of the other column. Worse, and most alarmingly, it expands the predatory view of public schools as “mission fields” not only for their children, but for like-minded teachers, as well. It lends new, soteriological urgency to the No Child Left Behind Act. The phrase, “unbelieving colleagues and students,” insinuates that they, the pagans, don’t believe in anything worth believing. It surely doesn’t imply that they don’t believe in anything at all. Most critical to predation, they form a captive audience. An untapped market, ripe for the taking. Christian salvation, reconceived as a product; nay, a complete brand. Packaged to represent all that is moral, just, intelligent and good. Marketed aggressively to achieve dominant share. And distributed through wide-open, nationwide channels: public schools. Like so much candy and soft drinks sold through vending machines. Parham goes on:

Public schools are not perfect. But they are neither completely immoral, as the… resolution asserts with its “enemies of God” language, nor pagan mission fields.

Who grants them the license? To define just who are, and are not, “enemies of God?” Those so labeled are, more likely, enemies of God’s self-appointed emissaries, their would-be saviors, who are busily defining them as the enemy. As Pogo declared, “We have met the enemy and he is us!” In the expressions, God-hater and enemies of God, we hear a distinct echo of the voice of narcissism, keening with fear, that it is the one hated, the one regarded as the enemy. Being paranoid does not mean that our fears are necessarily groundless. Our snake-biting-tail reasoning indicates that sanity, itself, may be on life-support, however. Why would anyone seriously consider himself, or herself, an enemy of God? Especially a non- believer? Even the new atheists would surely demure, to a man. After all, the minimum requirement for hating something, or someone, is to agree that it exists. How could members of non-Christian, theistic religions, be considered enemies of God? Though a large secondary market segment for conversion, they also define God as the lone, all-powerful deity. Witness the recent pathetic attempts to convert Jews to Christ. What reasonable people oppose is not God, per se, but the insistence that all must bow down to a specific God, as defined by others, and in specific ways, as dictated by the anointed cognoscenti. How has that worked out for us, for the past couple of millennia? Finally, after listing many of the good things that public schools accomplish, and for which he feels the SBC should be grateful, the director concludes:

If the SBC’s fundamentalist leaders cannot speak well of public schools for their inherent educational, social and cultural value, then they need to be honest and state publicly their anti-public-schools agenda.

With all due respect to Mr. Parham, who is clearly admirable for taking this ethical stand, it seems that there is more-than-sufficient forthrightness, in our religious right’s anti-public-schools agenda. But there is a-plenty of obfuscation, as to real motives behind it. The overt displays of animus and contempt indicate far more than mere pedagogical, or even soteriological differences over public, versus private, charter schools, or home schooling. It would seem to indicate an inner rage, over secular control of classroom content; the lack of our control, and the exclusion of religious content. The latter being our content, defined as religious specifically by our particular branch of Christianity.

JOHNNY CAN’T READ The real problem in schools may have little to do with prayer, and potentially a lot to do with meditation, or the lack of it, John Balzar, a Los Angeles Times columnist, writes:

Public schools are supposedly in crisis… So I signed up to teach high school this past semester… My tenure lasted two months, thus I can draw only preliminary conclusions. But I think it’s safe to say, yes, there is a problem in the classroom. But it’s not exactly what I expected. And, of course, it has little to do with all the quick fixes we hear about these days. The problem I see is the problem of 15-minute attention spans in our nervous culture of 15-minute crises and multitasked 15-minute solutions. No surprise, the high school students I encountered are as anxious, as impatient, as restless, as easily distracted, as head-dropping tired, as TV-synchronized, as headline- oriented, as self-absorbed, as lacking in curiosity, as we, their parents. Forty minutes is just too long to bear down. People squirm, nod off, drift away. So hurry, you only have 15 minutes. High school is a frantic daylong kaleidoscope of activity. Much like home. Read, watch TV, play a CD, drive to a friend’s, dial the phone, make a snack, download. So what’s wrong with 15-minute bursts, anyway? This: Learning is not just burst encounters with information. It is a process. Patience and perseverance are necessary components, and themselves sources of lifelong rewards once mastered. They cannot be taught without allowing for practice. I don’t care how skilled the teacher, concentration cannot be broken into 15-minute lessons. With the advent of ubiquitous cell-phoning and texting, not to mention sexting, this tedious melodrama has only gotten worse. There are some hopeful signs, that the ready availability of the Internet, with its vast information resources, may be utilized to augment the classroom. And science holds out some hope, of helping with the short-attention-span epidemic. But the answer from medicine, predictably, is mainly through medication, yet another magic pill. The medical-pharmaceutical complex, one that Ike did not have the prescience to warn us about. Religious belief, or spiritual practice, may seem to have little to offer, in the classroom. But we might consider a change as small as one letter. Meditation, rather than, or along with, medication, if really necessary. Meditation in schools has been tried. Compared to the alternatives, it should be given a fair test. It is all about training a student’s attention, directly. And it does not require religious conversion. The meditation of Zen is not guided, but left to the individual, to pursue in a natural process. Thus, it is not a form of coercion, proselytizing or propaganda. It is suitable for any and all secular situations, as appropriate in the school setting as it is in the workplace, and at home. The spiritual dimension of meditation is one that is revealed, rather than based on scripture. It is based on discovery, rather than belief. Thus, it does not conflict with the theories of science, the ethics and principles of philosophy, or the beliefs and doctrines of religions. And the practice of meditation helps prepare students for the academic, artistic, and athletic demands of the school. And, the kids think it’s cool.

This chapter has attempted to sketch a quick study of the relationship of the state to the church, and the church to the state, which are two different and distinct relationships. We critiqued expressed attitudes, through published polemics, of selected, reputedly deep thinkers, and some not so deep, on the side of conservative Christian religion. This coterie consists primarily of spokespersons of the Vatican, who are widely quoted in the media. They, after all, represent a church that is, itself, a separate state. It is international in the scope of its influence, particularly in Third World countries, where surviving long enough to evolve, tends to trump evolution itself. The good fathers clearly recognize the importance of this issue, and the disastrous potential impact a rapprochement with the secular worldview, or a surrender to it, might have on a declining church population. The Protestant, religious right, seems to be attacking, and defending, on a less exalted plane. In both cases, the arguments appear exceedingly circular, as may be expected. Religion, in corporate, institutional drag, is founded on the reification of the deity as alpha and omega. Ergo, it is inevitable that the end must return to the beginning, as in the example of first and final causes. It is innately self- fulfilling, or it wouldn’t be religion. It seems to us that the embrace of science, and reason, on the part of the Church, would have just the reverse effect, attracting more of the great middle of the bulge in the baby boomer snake, as well as extending an intellectual amnesty to the disaffected younger generation. It is incumbent upon religious leaders to bridge this gapless gap. The more rabid defenders of science are apt to fall into some of the same vicious circles as do devotees of religion, particularly when cornered. They should not, logically, have to defend the assertion that there is no God, which requires proving a negative. Instead, those who assert that there is, should be called upon to prove it. Of course, there is nothing logical about this debate. Intuition, art, poetry, may provide the illogical logic. When scientists assert that their discoveries reveal the reason for existence, rather than the workings of it, they slide into the same swamp of unsupported belief, and lose their unique and exalted street creds, as purveyors of objective, or at least operative, truth. In the next chapter, we will look more closely at some of the salient differences between Buddhism and conventional Christianity. They may represent departures from other religions, as well. Hopefully, the reader will gain greater appreciation of the principles and tenets of Zen, reinforcing our main premise, that Zen offers a viable alternative to the prevailing beliefs, and attitudes, of both religious and secular extremes. Coming to a critical assessment of our own beliefs and attitudes, informed by direct self-examination though meditation, is the central and necessary first step toward a personal resolution of conflict, and toward revolution of the Church, and of society.

C. BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY

Those of us who practice Zen are often faced with questions about it, from friends and family, even colleagues at work. It is to be expected in a mainly Christian culture. Most people we know claim to adhere to one form or another of the Christian faith, and the government pays at least lip service to it. But it can be a source of friction, especially throughout the Bible belt. When family members are of another faith, or the office where you work has a religious slant, letting it be known that you are a Buddhist can become a sticky point of contention. People naturally want to know why anyone would choose to go to the Zen Center, instead of to Church, or Synagogue. It can be awkward, trying to explain Zen in the context of religion, Christian belief in particular. Parents, especially when of differing family religions, naturally feel pressure to choose which one their own children will follow. They want to provide them the guidance, community and fellowship the congregation offers, even if they are not strictly religious. Zen centers tend to focus on the practice of the individual, rather than fellowship. The program of extensive meditation is usually designed for adults, and does not lend itself readily to family practice. In this situation, it is understandable that some followers of Zen would continue to view themselves as Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or members of other faiths. For these and other reasons, it is necessary to clarify some differences, at least compared to Christianity, those most characteristic of the two traditions. Zen does not actually conflict with other religions, as it is not a religion, in the same sense. But adherents of other religions usually look for, and find, conflicts with Zen. Westerners in general, and adherents of religions in particular, are asked to keep an open mind, when first confronting Zen Buddhism. It definitely is not what you think it is. Buddhism and Christianity is the chosen construction, rather than Buddhism versus Christianity. This is because, from the view point of Zen, there is no contest. Buddhism is not a proselytizing religion, and is not interested in poaching adherents from others that are, nor even within its own sects. And, for Zen Buddhism to have the positive effect that we believe it can have, on Western society, we feel it has to make allies, to the extent appropriate, of the influential entities that underpin the culture, including the Church, and the State, as well as the institutions of Science. In this sense, we Buddhists, who are in a distinct minority, are reaching across the aisle to our larger congregations and aggregations of brothers and sisters. We hope to find commonalities, and ways to work together for the common good.

UNCOMMON COMMONALITY First, let’s consider one significant commonality between Christianity and Zen, which was pointed out by Master Sokei-An, a first-generation Japanese Rinzai master and the founder of the New York Zen Institute in the 1930s. In those days, his visitors knew little of Buddhism or Zen, the great majority being of Christian and Judaic background, as might be expected. The necessity of explaining Zen, from a Western perspective, led him to look into Christianity, and characteristically of Zen, to look for commonalities in the two systems, rather than differences. Paraphrasing Master Sokei-An, Buddha, some 2500 years ago, taught a kind of wisdom and compassion that required the surrender of the self. Some five hundred years later, he said, Jesus taught a kind of divine love, which closed the teaching. To accede to this love, also required the surrender of the self to something higher, or greater. So the two great teachings share this in common: both require the relinquishment of the self.

CHRIST VERSUS BUDDHA Proponents of Zen, like Sokei-an, tend to emphasize commonalities, in comparing Zen Buddhism with other spiritual paths. Confrontation, engaging in debate over differences, especially trivial ones, is not the Zen way. In my experience, interfaith dialog also encourages this attitude, a kind of benign political correctness, wherein participants look for similarities rather than stressing differences, in the interest of avoiding confrontation, and of practicing tolerance. Christians and scientists engaged in the ID debate might usefully adopt this more considerate approach. There have been some well-intentioned efforts to demonstrate that, at base, all religions are the same. For example, that all worship the same God, and that any differences can largely be reduced to semantics. But we believe that overt syncretistic movements, intended to assimilate other systems into Buddhism, and vice-versa, are destined to fail, and for good reason. Differences in religions fit to differences in the lives of the religious. The distinctions allow seekers to find the approach that fits them best. There have been like-minded efforts to find parallels in the record of teachings imputed to Jesus, and those of the historical Buddha. These may attempt to reduce perceived differences to issues of mere syntax, cultural context, or matters of interpretation; particularly with regard to extreme contemporary doctrines, that some scholars feel distort the original teachings. And, of course, since neither of the two great spiritual founders ever penned, or brushed, a single word, the written records and their interpretation necessarily include a healthy dose of speculation. But the question is, So what? So what if there are similarities? It is not, after all, the overlapping of tenets, or the coincidence of ideas, that is important in these systems, but the unique insights that a founding figure like Buddha, or Jesus, contribute to the worldview of those who follow them; and most especially for their relevance today. Whatever the impetus, too much emphasis on commonality has the unfortunate, if unintended, consequence of diluting the uniqueness of the message of each. The teachings have already been diluted enough, by the ravages of time. Better to try to preserve the precious, unique wisdom that inheres in each, separately. The motive behind these comparative exercises may simply be a kind of spiritual awakening, to the all-inclusive embrace of true religion. Or a laudable desire to loosen the strictures of Christian doctrine, to include unbelievers in the saved, and to soften the extremes of exclusivity and zealotry to which some protagonists of Christianity have gone. Or, it may be that researchers want to make the teachings of Buddhism more acceptable to Christians. More cynically, it may be symptomatic of an effort to retain younger church members, by learning how to offer meditation that they now seek elsewhere, within the church’s program.

BUDDHISM VERSUS CHRISTIANITY Buddha was not a Christian; Jesus was not a Buddhist. Any attempt to combine the two systems is probably ill-advised. But it is also true that Buddha was not a Buddhist, any more than Christ was a Christian. During the life and time of Jesus, 2000 years or so ago, there was no Christianity, as we know it now, other than that practiced by his small band of followers. In the Northern Indian culture in which Buddhism arose, 2500 years ago, there was no Buddhism. Buddha’s experience of insight is not inherently Indian in nature, any more than Ch’an Buddhism, transmitted from India to China by the 28th Indian patriarch Bodhidharma, is innately Chinese. Nor is Zen Buddhism exclusively Japanese. Zen cannot be defined as Asian, or American, for that matter. It cannot be contained in a cultural, or ethnic bottle. Some might say the same for Christianity.

BUDDHA WAS NOT BUDDHIST; CHRIST WAS NOT CHRISTIAN Comparing Buddhism with Christianity in a pluralistic, multicultural society, the politically correct thing would be to treat all opinions and beliefs as essentially equal, so as not to offend anyone. In this context, the impulse to include all spiritual systems under one tent, is hard to resist. Zen has historical trappings derived from various countries of origin, including India, China, Japan and Korea, and some may seem similar to the trappings of other religions. In many ways, they function in a similar fashion. But taking the position that Buddhism and Christianity are basically irreconcilable is probably more realistic, and a healthier starting-point for discussion. This is the attitude that many of us maintain, regarding the domains of Science and Religion. This is not to say that a Christian cannot practice zazen, or that one who studies and agrees with a Zen-based philosophical viewpoint, cannot be a believer in the Christian faith. However, while a Christian may practice Zen meditation, and even subscribe to Zen philosophy, or its lifestyle of simplicity as a value, for example, it cannot meaningfully be argued that a Christian can be a Buddhist, or that a Buddhist can be a Christian, other than in the most superficial sense of those terms. Or other than in the common humanity of their founders. Where the two come together is in the actual life and example of Christ and Buddha. Neither was self-identified by the sectarian label. Jesus was a Jew, and Siddhartha was a Hindu. In their actual being, we can say that any differences are rendered trivial. Anyone who accedes to the wisdom of Buddha, or the divine love of Christ, would, likewise, no longer identify himself, or herself, as being of either sect. In light of the ultimate Truth, any distinction must, perforce, be reduced to semantics. But from a social perspective, preceding insight or spiritual epiphany, a practicing Christian cannot, meaningfully, also be a practicing Buddhist. Laying claim to both raises serious contradictions. Even taken alone, there is an inherent contradiction, in a Buddhist self-identifying as a Buddhist. This is why we say, Spit when you say Buddha. The term is meaningless, in the light of realization. It cannot include, but only excludes. A person who declares for Buddhism is engaging socially; but anyone who self-identifies as a Buddhist does not understand Buddhism. It may mean something different for a Christian, as Christ, and God, are seen as personal relations, in which the individual does not become Christ, or God. Whereas, in Zen, we become buddha, not a Buddhist. Practice may also have many different meanings in Christianity, but in Zen, it is highly specific. In Zen, we practice holistically: physically, through meditation; mentally, by study of sutras and teachings; and socially, by observing Precepts and so on. Zen claims to transmit the essential, transformational experience of the Buddha, which was, and is, the seminal source of Buddhist teaching. A Christian, who undergoes the same kind of transformation, may not be able to rationalize it within a Christian framework, and still identify as a Christian. There are several other distinct forks in the road, where Christianity and Buddhism must part company, some of which are discussed below. But genuine spiritual experience is the great equalizer, at the heart of all religion, so any conceptual or preceptual differences should not present an insurmountable barrier. A Zen Ancestor said something to the effect that you have to do self-renunciation, then self- awakening, and finally, self-clarification. That is, no one can take these steps for you; Zen is the ultimate in do-it-yourself. The meaning of renunciation, in Zen, will be explored later; it, too, is not what you might think it is. No one can wake us up; this is our responsibility, though it can be argued that it is not something we can actually do, e.g. by force of will, but is perhaps akin to a state of grace, in which we are able to awaken spiritually. That clarification follows awakening means that it is not self-clarifying. Clarifying necessarily includes transcendence of any self-identity, and is aided by the teacher-student relationship. The self is seen to be empty of actual existence, through this process. But the central focus of the Christian faith is on the salvation of the eternal soul. This is antithetical to the central teaching of Buddhism, that this so-called soul, or atman, its Hindu version, is an invention, an extension of the concept of self. This is a profound point of distinction, between the two views. If, through direct experience in meditation, one comes to question the very reality of the self or soul, the linchpin of the Christian faith, how can one remain Christian? Others may answer differently, but it seems self-evident that, at this strait, we are neither Christian nor Buddhist. One could argue that anyone, from any background, including Christian or Buddhist, can come to experience what must be, on some level, the same epiphany, or awakening experience (J. satori) of Buddha, and perhaps identical to that experienced by Christ. Whatever qualitative differences there may be between individuals, they would necessarily be non-essential, in the face of genuine spiritual awakening. That is, the Truth is the truth. So one who apprehends the Truth, an honorific for Buddha (Skt. tathagata), must be apprehending the same truth, as any other who apprehends the Truth. The truth cannot be individuated, if it is universal.

BUDDHA WAS NOT CHRISTIAN; CHRIST WAS NOT BUDDHIST The historical Buddha, Shakyamuni, meaning prince of the Shakya clan, was a human being. The term is capitalized to differentiate it from that indicating our original, or buddha, nature. When fully realized, we become Buddha, which means fully-awakened one. For those who insist upon personalizing the relationship, we could argue that Buddha was the son of God, as all human beings can be considered the children of the same fundamental source, whatever we call it. But no Buddhist would claim that Shakyamuni Buddha was the one, and only, son of a God who so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. Buddha, unlike Christ, was not martyred, but in Zen, we are all walking crucifixes. We will eventually give our lives up, willingly or not. Shakyamuni Buddha lived to the ripe old age of 80, if we are to believe the record. He was not, and is not, considered a savior in the Christian mystical sense, though he did dedicate the last 50 years of his life, to the salvation of all beings. He is also not our savior, in the sense that we have to go through him, as intermediary, in order to be saved. All have the same potential to wake up, according to his own teaching. He was said to have come to view his disciples, and all human beings, as his children, but not in a condescending way. Instead, he encouraged his followers to work out their own salvation, rather than take his word for it. Buddha is not usually an object of worship by Buddhists, in the same sense that Jesus Christ is worshipped by Christians, as a living deity, or as God made flesh. Buddha is deeply admired for his discovery, resulting in his profound spiritual awakening, and revered for his monumental and compassionate efforts, in establishing the first Order. That he realized this accomplishment without a teacher, testifies to his unique place in the world, and in the history of religion. Most Buddhists emulate his example of an enlightened life, and aspire to realize his awakening in their own lives; or, failing that, in a future life, by virtue of rebirth. Of course, some Buddhists merely hope to be reborn into better circumstances, some sects even into a heavenly realm, as Christians do. However, salvation in Buddhism is not the saving of souls, though the Bodhisattva vow to save all beings may sound like it. The difference may appear, again, to be reducible to semantics. But in Zen it is saving, as opposed to wasting, this precious human life. And in doing so, to save others from their own ignorance. Being born as a human being is necessary to spiritual awakening, an opportunity not to be lost.

RECONCILABLE COMMONALITIES There are many behavioral aspects of Christianity that find common ground, or at least a parallel, within Zen, such as the observance of precepts, our guidelines for living. The central focus of Buddhism in everyday life, compassion, requires the relinquishment of the self, in order to accede to the compassionate wisdom of Buddha. In Christianity, giving up the self to a higher love, divine love, is, similarly, an act of surrender. The surrender of the self is one common bond between both religions. But, the elevation of the self, to the status of immortal soul, is where the two systems part company. Zen would fall into the camp of spirituality, rather than religiosity, which might make it the subject of misplaced ridicule amongst adherents of monotheistic religion. Returning to Garret Keizer, (see Church versus State) in Harper’s Magazine, he defines the commitment-averse “player” who shies away from declared religion:

“Spirituality” is lighter on its feet. Spirituality delights in esoterica, the secrets hidden from the others, the workers, the non-players. This was part of the appeal of Gnosticism, those quasi-Christian sects that flourished in the early centuries of the Common Era.

Today’s religious cults may be the modern equivalent. Their congregants drop out, disengage, and create their own world in isolation. Their hidden worlds are occasionally exposed, in news accounts of confrontations with the secular powers-that-be. Most famously, or infamously perhaps, the Jim Jones debacle and, later, the Branch Davidians. Lately, the klieg lights have shined, mercilessly, on selected Mormons. But for Keizer, the real action is with the activist, the worker, those engaged in the larger world, with its larger problems:

The most interesting kinds of religion, for my money, challenge the Gnostic pretensions of the player. The Buddhist Bodhisattva, for example, is a player who thinks like a worker. Elite in his attainment, he refuses to enter Nirvana “until the grass itself is enlightened.” Blessedness for the bodhisattva means joining the union. When American socialist Eugene Debs said that as long as there was a criminal class he was in it, that “While there is a soul in prison I am not free,” he was talking like a bodhisattva. He was talking like one of the worker saints. Not for nothing is Jesus remembered as a carpenter, like the stonecutter Socrates. Both were markedly blue collar in their approach to wisdom. Introduce them to a player, and their natural inclination was to take him down a peg. Put him to work, in other words. “Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor…then come, follow me.”

That last is a difficult call, that few players, or just plain folks, can bring themselves to answer: the call to spiritual, actualized as material, poverty. In other words, dropping out of the game. It is worth noting, that this vow of poverty is a hallmark of both Buddhism and Christianity.

IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES Of course, there are many major beliefs, from Christian as well as other doctrines, that find no toehold in Zen, and to which a Buddhist might take exception, if pressed. These include the existence of the soul, as mentioned; the resurrection of Christ; the virgin birth; the reality of miracles in general; the efficacy of prayer, and treating incidents as answers to prayers; salvation through the intercession of a savior; eternal life, and the emphasis on afterlife; to name a few. All the above are problematic, not just to Buddhism, but also to the man on the street. Especially when presented as literal and inerrant, rather than symbolic. Even as symbolic teachings, they would be considered distractions from Zen’s concentration on concrete reality. Even Buddhist teachings, such as rebirth, can become obsessive, if given too much emphasis. There may be teachings in Buddhism that seem to parallel each of these Christian beliefs, such as the legend that Buddha was fully formed at birth, an apocryphal miracle. But such comparisons are bound to be somewhat specious, not likely to pass the So what? test. In any case, a thorough and fair comparative analysis could not be done in less than book length, and is not the point here. Following is a cursory review of some of the main points of contention. These reflect elements of Christian doctrine, or dogma, for which we find no clear parallel in Zen. They are presented in no particular order of priority. SELF VERSUS SOUL Belief in existence of the self (and, ergo, the soul), and in a personal God, provide bones of contention that are more than semantic. The emphasis on the afterlife, in Christianity, as well as in Islam and others, distracts from, and defers, the effort necessary to Zen awakening in this lifetime. It is also contrary to the Buddhist doctrine of inseparability of the realm of spiritual liberation (Skt. nirvana) and that of everyday life (Skt. samsara). Heaven and hell are to be found in this existence, according to Zen. Rebirth is into this world, rather than into a separate realm, or dimension, of heaven, purgatory, or hell. The Buddhist doctrine of rebirth is not the same as reincarnation. The principle of no-self, no- soul (Skt. Anatman, anatta) eliminates all possibility of the reincarnation of that soul. No-self is part and parcel of rebirth. According to this model, serial existences, while not of the self-same being, or person, nonetheless arise, conditioned by past, karmic causes. The one that is born is not the same one that died. A self-existent entity, disconnected from the net of ever-changing reality, and yet living in and through it, is considered an absurdity, a fantasy, however appealing. Yet, there is a connection, of causes and conditions, running through our lives. This was part of Buddha’s insight, the up-close and personal part. He saw that the soul (Skt. atman), conceived as the real person, temporarily residing in this mortal body, is a delusion. He found no evidence of its existence, in fact just the opposite. This self, this soul, is as empty of self-entity as this body, in which it is said to dwell. But, of course, it is a most cherished human hope, that we possess an immortal soul. The soul, in Zen, is simply the self on steroids.

GOOD VERSUS EVIL Another major difference most Buddhists would find with fundamentalist attitudes, Christian, Muslim, or otherwise; is their black-and-white bifurcation of reality into opposing, and reified, poles, of absolute opposites. Among the more obvious: physical versus spiritual; good versus evil; God versus Satan; heaven versus hell; the saved versus the damned; innocence versus inborn guilt; the fall from grace versus redemption. We may find seemingly similar concepts, in Buddhism. But in Buddhism, emotional interpretations are seen to stem from fear, coupled with wishful thinking. All such pairs are seen, not in opposition, in Zen, but as complementary, and mutually defining. For example, the emotionally neutral form is emptiness, emptiness is form, a fundamental formulation of Buddhism. It is analogous to the scientific finding that matter is energy, and energy, inseparable from matter. Buddhism holds that the physical and the spiritual cannot be separated. The attitude that such a separation actually exists in the world is a human concept, a wrong view, based on dualistic thinking. Upon close examination, it falls apart, as does the apparent separation of matter and energy. Human beings create these distinctions, and therein lies the root cause of confusion. Such dual pairs as physical/spiritual, body/mind, subject/object, and self/other, are so intricately and inextricably intertwined, that even to invent the words that differentiate them is, in itself, a delusion-enhancing act. And yet, it is a necessary evil, so to speak. It is the nature of language to separate, through naming things, which then are perceived as actually separate. This naming process further reinforces discriminating thinking, ossifying our dualistic perception of reality. Reality is itself such a word, implying as it does, a possibility of the reality of its opposite, unreality. The language of mathematics has the equation, a formulation whereby two nominally separate expressions can be shown as equal. But to say that form = emptiness still allows a separate, though equal, reification of each. A new word would have to be coined, e.g. shunyatta-rupa, emptiness-form, to encapsulate the absolute inseparability of concepts that are not two. This not-two is a Zen principle, introduced in an ancient Chinese Zen text, “To come directly into harmony with this reality just simply say when doubt arises, ‘not two.’ In this ‘not two’ nothing is separate; nothing is excluded.” A mathematical symbol that means inseparable, rather than equal, actually does exist, I am told. Good and evil are likewise conceptual, and culturally contextual, from this viewpoint. Zen does not deny that our actions sometimes cause harm, or evil, nor that we can do good if we try. But it does not posit a palpable presence of evil in the world, as represented by the idea of Satan. Nor does it focus all good in a deity, or God. It recognizes that good, and evil, are creations of the human mind. This we take to be one meaning of Adam and Eve’s fall from grace. Most of the evil in the world is created by the human race. It is manifested in human discrimination against, and consequent mistreatment of, our fellow sentient beings; and even the material, insentient world. Ironically, discriminating mind (Skt. Citta), often used almost as a pejorative, is the organ of higher thought. Citta is the source of the greatest accomplishments of science and philosophy, including religious thought. As such, it is highly regarded in Zen, for it can even discriminate against discrimination itself. And in doing so, the discriminating mind can lead to awakening the intuitive, wisdom mind (Skt. Bodhi). So Zen is not anti-intellectual, far from it. But it recognizes, clearly, the limitations of the intellect.

NATURAL EVIL The destructive forces of Nature, e.g. earthquakes and hurricanes, are in no way evil. They are, instead, examples of the neutrality of nature. It is not a respecter of persons. Humanity should, therefore, have humility, as to its place in nature. But natural calamity is not visited upon humanity as punishment for evil behavior, or attitudes. If it were, avoidance of the specified behavior would assure that no further such events occur. Which events are, of course, the natural evolution of the planet, only marginally affected by the behavior of humankind, notwithstanding climate change. At any rate, to associate tectonic plate movement, or an eclipse, with the disposition of the gods, is an absurd fallacy, mainly revealing the pathetic nature of humanity’s helpless hopefulness in the face of nature. Heaven and hell, housing the saved and the damned, respectively, are likewise inventions of the human mind. We should call them human heaven, human hell. The hell that is real, in Zen, is that which we inflict upon ourselves and others. Heaven is when we stop. But humanity is forever in search of surety, yearning for discernable meaning and order in a chaotic world. Again, the perception of chaos is an interpretation, of what is actually a higher form of order, irreducible to human logic and sentimentality. To attribute it to the will of God, is an understandable attempt, however futile, to effect a virtual transmutation of impersonal chaos, into personal order. Innocence and guilt, the fall from grace, and redemption are, again, human constructs. In Buddhism, even a new-born babe can not be considered strictly innocent. Birth occurs as a result of desire, according to this teaching, and so each person is at least partially responsible, for his or her own birth. This responsibility cannot be fobbed off on one’s parents, or laid at the feet of God. Thus, each individual is also at least partially responsible, for his or her own death, regardless of how it happens. If one is responsible for one’s life, one is responsible for one’s death. All are equally guilty, of the crime of existence. It is our own fault, that we are alive.

CRIME AND CONSEQUENCE Even a victim of murder is partly responsible for the event, owing to this inescapable fact. This does not, however, excuse murderers, or other criminals, who inflict physical harm on others. Nor does it relieve them of the karmic consequences of their acts. Forgiveness, highly touted in Christianity, does not alter the consequences either, even if it is from the victim, or from a priest. The fall from grace, in Buddhism, follows directly from the conception of good and evil. It is seeing evil, and good, where they do not actually exist. It is as difficult to make the case, that the lower animals are truly capable of committing evil, as it is for natural disaster. Of course, good and evil do exist—in the minds and behaviors of human beings. The terms reflect a relative good, over relative evil, based on human desire for comfort, and peace. But there is no absolute good, or evil. From a non- human perspective, these ideas are seen as self-serving. They help explain how humanity’s divinely ordained, dominion over the earth, has gone so far awry. But the fall from grace, in Zen, is more than just faulty perception. It is the very separation of yourself from your birthright, through ignorance. It stems from an overweening separation of self and other. Buddha-nature, awakened nature, encompasses both self and other, compassion and wisdom, in balance. It is a well-rounded view of reality, and our place in it. Belief in absolute good and evil, and other such judgmental views, are essentially work- arounds, put in place by the human mind in an attempt to patch over the ambiguity of existence. That is, they function as stand-ins for controlling behavior, in the absence of true compassion and wisdom. But they will have to do, until the real thing comes along. Master Dogen instructed that, when meditating, we are to sit upright, “…forsaking all delusive relationships. Setting everything aside, think of neither good nor evil, right nor wrong.” Of course, as soon as we leave the cushion, we are immediately immersed in a world of good and evil, right and wrong. But setting aside such worldly concerns, even temporarily suspending our judgmental mind, we have a chance to see deeper into their true character and origin.

GOD VERSUS NO GOD Some say that humankind is the creation of God. Some say that God is a creation of humankind. A product of our inventive mind, a necessary myth to fall back on, in the face of the whole catastrophe. Buddhism would suggest that our concept of God is a product of the discriminating mind, as is every other concept. As long as God is a concept, it is only a concept. Buddhism does not proclaim an atheistic, or even agnostic, view. It is just that the god principle can not be isolated from everything else. The sacred is not separable from the profane. Thus, if anything is God, everything is. This idea may seem heretical to us as creationists, but only if we insist on separating reality into God, and not-God. If anything is God, everything must be God, or God wouldn’t be God, at least not in the way God is defined. God is omniscient, omnipresent, enjoying a room with a view of Creation, including the minutest details of it. This God is said to be aware, of even the fall of a single sparrow. But how, exactly, does God become aware of this event? Through what eyes? Those of the bird itself? If the latter, it is akin to animism, and close to the Buddhist view of the unity of all sentient beings. All beings are of God; otherwise God loses most of its meaning. Again, is God a consciousness, separate and individuated; or the collective consciousness of all beings? Even the devil has to be a form of God. Satan is one of His creations, a fallen angel, according to the story. This makes it very difficult to accept the principle of absolute evil, embodied in Satan, as a concrete reality. God would have to be incompetent, to create evil. Mara, the symbol of evil in Buddhism, is more a manifestation of our own ignorance. The true source of evil in the world is selfish attitudes based on craving of the false self, and the harm committed in its service. But most people apparently do not agree, especially those professing religion. Sacred and profane are held to be separate. Evil as an incarnate being acting, illogically, against its own creator; echo of all-too-human themes of Greek and Shakespearian tragedy, or the gnarly theories of neurosis and psychosis in modern psychology; patricide writ mythical. This device, or fiction, that evil is incarnate, serves to sustain a fearful faith in a caring God, in the face of the incomprehensible suffering, incessant and senseless death and destruction, inherent in existence. Otherwise, God is demonstrably indifferent to human suffering, not a respecter of persons, and so, unresponsive to prayer. Conduct unbecoming to a loving God. On top of that, intentional infliction of suffering by humans, upon humans and any and all other beings that resist our will—or simply get in the way—is often perpetrated in the name of God. This violence, perhaps the only human behavior that can be labeled truly indiscriminate, is defended as self- fulfilling proof of the perpetrators’ belief in evil, projected upon their victims. A bit like the self- fulfilling prophecy of anti-government politicians, whose tenure in office is devoted to proving that government doesn’t work. They make sure it doesn’t, proving the point. And getting re-elected. But this kind of greed, hatred and delusion, Buddhism’s trio of basic poisons, eventually turns on its enablers. Even Hitler killed himself, finally. And, presumably, believed that his soul was destined for a heavenly afterlife. This attitude does not give up without a fight.

GOD’S WILL The propensity to attribute events to God’s will is understandable, given the apparent randomness of natural disasters, such as hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes and flooding. But this idea also lends itself to aggrandizing the progress of history, mainly the history of humankind, from the point of view of humans, naturally. There is, after all, a largely unwritten history, outside of the story of humankind. That the definition of history is exclusively human, is also understandable, as it is written by, for and about, humans. But it can also be one more example of human hubris. Which, of course, goeth before a fall. Both sides to a (human) conflict tend to believe that God is on their side, or that they are on the right side of history; same difference. The side that wins writes the history, as it is said, and so can claim the righteous imprimatur of God, by default. In Zen Buddhism, however, karma is the final arbiter of justice, the only true justice, delivering consequences and maintaining balance on epochal and universal scales. But, unlike God, and like Nature, it is not a respecter of persons. Karma does not even favor a given species, such as humankind, though cultural and other dimensions of evolution clearly do, so far. Humanity occupies a special place in Buddhism—Buddha was a human being, after all —but humanity is placed in the context of all sentient beings. All sentient beings are much like humans, their differences decidedly less significant, in the Buddhist model, than in most human culture. The main difference is that they are not merely in our care, but comprise our extended family; we are their shepherds, stewards, fellow-travelers. The human race has more in common with other species than it has differences, as science is demonstrating, more and more conclusively. This is no great surprise, in the light of Buddhist teachings, but seems to constitute one of the most offensive insults to the human-creationist. Thus the deprecatory connotations of monkey, ape, or gorilla, when referring to a human. Karma, the Tao, or Way, the law of causality; all are ways of expressing something that is beyond, and indifferent to, human will. The Natural Order is perhaps the closest Western equivalent. Coming into harmony with this great, natural order, is the central challenge humanity faces. If the Universe is the body of God, there is no conflict in following its dictates. They are the dictates of Nature, including an embrace of the evolutionary process, even for the avowed theist. Theology itself must evolve, after all.

GOD AND BUDDHISM God is extra, in Buddhism. So it is said that there is no God, in Buddhism. This does not posit the absence of God, or the death of God, as there has to be a God, for God to be absent, or dead. Absence depends upon presence, and vice-versa. God, in Buddhism, is regarded as a psychological extension of the self-created self, a natural consequence of the belief in the self, and by extension, the soul; all, hopefully, eternal. Thus, Buddhism is not theistic, but it is not atheistic, either. To most thinkers, that might leave only the alternative of agnosticism. But Buddhism is also not agnostic, except in the general sense of being open-minded. It is not important whether it is impossible to know whether or not God exists, nor does it profess doubt that a particular question has a single correct answer or that a complete understanding of something can be obtained. Zen is not embroiled in such intellectual issues, with the caveat that spiritual insight is the understanding that surpasseth understanding. God is an answer to the philosophical-religious why question, expressed as Who. It is natural that we, as beings who considers ourselves whos, would be most comfortable believing a religious explanation that deifies a who, a figure similar to us. Most personal preferences, after all, in the commonplace aspects of daily life, are largely based on similarities, birds of a feather. So why would we regard God any differently, as alien from ourselves? Trans-species gods, those of the ancients, gave way to anthropomorphic gods, now yielding to one God. This is considered progress.

BUDDHISM WITH OR WITHOUT GOD In Zen, as in science, asking meaningful questions trumps finding pat answers. A meaningful experience, completely clear or otherwise, similarly trumps understanding. The teachings of Buddhism are understandable, accessible to the intellect. But the insight to which they point is not. This does not mean that it is not at all accessible, however. Buddha articulated a theory of dependent, or interdependent, origination; a process that does not depend on a creator god, known in that time as Ishvara, for its implementation. Interdependent origination holds that one thing comes into being as the causal effect of another, and that each cause is, itself, an effect of another; each effect also a cause, and so on. We will go into more on this later (see Basics of Buddhism), but for now, a simple example: Soil nurtures a plant; the plant transforms, and eventually fertilizes, the soil, in a never-ending, evolving flux of creation. The constituents are interlinked. The interdependent causes and conditions are akin to Indra’s net, a complex grid of manifold knots, interconnected and mutually conditioning, reflecting the entire universe. Water, soaking throughout the hanging net, forms a droplet at each knot, which appear separate, for a time. Each drop reflects, and is reflected in, all the others. Indra is the king of the gods, in the Hindu pantheon, but not the God. In Buddhism, the first cause, as opposed to God, or the Big Bang, is not known. This expresses a kind of humility, not an argument with creationists, or a competitive theory for cosmologists. It is also not agnostic, in the sense of pending further study. There is no way to wait and see, in that the first cause cannot be known, short of inventing a time machine. Which is, incidentally, what our astronomical telescopes are. The further away they see, the further back in time they go. That spacetime thing. More later on that. It is, fortunately, irrelevant to Zen’s purpose to know the first, or even final, cause. Buddha had little respect, and perhaps a bit of contempt, for such speculation. Those rapture-seekers who hope to finally understand it all, in some great epiphany in the sky after they die, are going to be sorely disappointed. In Buddhism, another ride on the merry-go-round begins. Which has its own appeal; remember the gold ring, a free ride. In Zen, we might say that if anything is God, everything is God. Rather than conceiving of a creator god, as an outside force acting upon the material world, God becomes a name for the force, for all forces actually, in the aggregate, which science divides into four fundamental categories. God, if anything, is these forces, acting universally and absolutely, and so is one with reality. Or God is the zero before the one of the singularity, the primordial atom antecedent to the Big Bang. Or both or all. This renders the concept, and label, of God, somewhat superfluous, much like the place of art, in primitive society. In so-called primitive societies, it is said that there is no separate art. Everything made by the artisans, whatever its utility, is a form of art, artful. Ambrose Bierce defined art crisply: “This word has no definition.” Same for God, ultimately. Similarly, like art, and God, buddha is not a separate entity. This original nature is not exclusive, but rather inclusive, of all beings, and as such is seen as the very being, as a verb, of the universe. Shared by all sentient beings, buddha is the true being of all beings, sentient and insentient. If this is to be called God, then one thing is for certain: God is not in the image of man. If the concept of God is to be meaningful in Buddhism, it would at least have to be an impersonal God. It could not be a single, autonomous being, that nonetheless is somehow aware of, and in touch with, all other beings’ feelings, aspirations, deeds and misdeeds. This attitude, that God’s attention is focused, laser-like, on our every deed, seems unseemly arrogant, overly self-absorbed. Why would God sweat the small stuff? Surely his design would provide some wiggle-room for delegation, without the wheels coming completely off the universe. Therefore, Zen’s answer to the question, Who is God? would be—You are God! To the question, Who is Buddha?—You are Buddha! This may seem the height of arrogance, but is only stating a humble truth. There are no buddhas, outside of human beings. And if God is what God is purported to be, there can be no God outside humanity, either. Or, alternatively, no humans outside of God. That is, human beings are included in the body of God. This is ordinary, not miraculous. In Song of Zazen (J. Zazen Wasan), Master Hakuin begins his lovely poem, a testament to the virtues of zazen, with this first of four stanzas:

From the very beginning, all beings are buddhas Like water and ice, without water, no ice Outside us no buddhas How near the truth, yet how far we seek Like one in water crying “I thirst” Like a child of rich birth wandering poor on this earth We endlessly circle the six worlds

Compare this to Shakespeare’s Tomorrow Soliloquy, and you will get an insight into the difference between the Western and Eastern mindset. Master Hakuin captures the ignorance underlying our travails, thirst in the midst of an ocean, poverty in the midst of wealth. The six worlds represent the dimensions of existence, from heaven to hell, through which we endlessly circle, rebirth after rebirth, searching for what we already have. It is not a tale told by an idiot, exactly, more like an ignoramus.

INFALLIBLY INERRANT Infallibility of scripture is another stumbling block for Buddhists, when considering Christianity, as touched on in the prior chapter (see Church & State). It is almost too easy a target, but demands of us such gullibility, that it is impossible, in this context, to ignore the contradictions. We are to believe that the Bible was not authored by fallible human beings, but revealed by God himself. That they were not enmeshed in the political, and cultural, contexts of their time; and that none of this influenced their writings. They were channeling God directly. There was no corrupting influence, on the doctrines they recorded. Nor throughout the centuries of revisions. And, the channelees just happened to be all male (like God Himself), with a few exceptions, such as Joan of Arc (and look at how that worked out). With all that he had on his plate, God still managed the time, and whipped up the interest, to speak to these men, exhaustively, about the trivial details of their lives, and how to organize their society. And which tribes to smite, which to wipe out entirely. And, conveniently, in their language, which he also created, we suppose. The fallibility of language, or text, itself, especially after enduring multiple translations, is another reason to challenge the infallibility of anything written, scripture especially. Scholars of ancient Greek and Hebrew have pointed out multiple, and in some cases, clearly intentional, distortions of meaning in original texts of the Bible. The original channelers of God’s word were not the same scriveners who later rendered it for popular consumption. In Zen, for these and other reasons, we rely on experience, rather than scripture. This means that the various leaders of the lineage, from Buddha in India through China, Tibet, Japan and the far East, have been the arbiters of Buddhist truth, not just passive purveyors of dogma. In many cases, they reinterpreted the canon in ways that even appear contradictory, from a logical, or grammatical, point of view. This is partly because what Zen talks about is inherently ambiguous, another reason that scripture, in Buddhism, is not considered inerrant. It is a cultural artifact, the result of real people, acting and reacting, in real contexts. Because the context changes, the translation, of genuine experience into the language of the author’s time and place, also changes. So then, where lies authority? What can we depend on? In Buddhism, it is only our own, direct insight.

PRAYER OF EFFICACY From time to time there appear, in the press, spurious claims of scientific evidence, purportedly proving the efficacy of prayer. Debunked, they emerge again, in another guise. Public displays of prayer, for the recovery of the sick, for success, or for rain during a drought, are given uncritical coverage in the reputedly rational news media. The Serenity Prayer, attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr, contains perhaps the best-known example of neutral prayer, in its opening stanza, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.” The rest of the prayer segues from the wish for stoicism, into a more normal, then supremely self-interested, hope for results, in this life, and the next:

Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next. Amen.

Prayer in the abstract—for our own serenity and wisdom, unconnected to a material outcome— is closer to the Zen attitude. In Zen meditation, there is a felt, spiritual communion, as if from one being to another. This intuition is regarded as an apperception of reality, not-two from the beginning; our discriminating mind creates the sense of duality in it. Centering prayer, communion with God, in the Christian contemplative tradition, while similar in its experiential aspect, differs in its focus on God. Communion is not communication, which requires two to tango. In Zen, meditation is relied upon, for spiritual insight, rather than prayer to a god. But it is not, as it is in some forms of Buddhist meditation, focused on the presence, or person, of a God, of Buddha, a saint, a savior, or even upon the content of scripture. It is not relational, in that sense. The efficacy of it has to do with a resultant change in our attitude toward, and resistance to, the circumstances of life. The purpose is not to seek special treatment, or to ask for intercession on our behalf, or that of others. This use of prayer is seen as an example of the self-centeredness of ego, in the first instance, and a misconception of causality, however well-intended, in the second. This does not preclude resorting to prayer, in desperation. As they say, there are no atheists in a foxhole. In dire straits, it is understandable that one would turn to prayer, as a last resort. In a football game, however, the prayer of thanks for the touchdown, or for the victory, demeans the very dignity of prayer itself. The winner of the Super Bowl, favored by divine intervention. God may move in mysterious ways. But surely God is not working the point spread.

MIRACULOUSLY ORDINARY The miraculous, in Christianity, is usually associated with the will of God, or the feats of his human delegates. Saints are said to be able to perform miracles, as was Jesus, if you believe the stories. Miracles are events, or feats, that violate the laws of physics, or of science in general. They involve instantaneous healing of the infirm, feeding the multitudes with manna from heaven, even raising the dead. These have often been touted as convincers, used to promote one religious sect over another. So, there is a time-honored, pro-religion precedent for maintaining an anti-scientific bias, continued to this day, by such televised miracle workers as evangelist Benny Hinn. He is threatening to reprise the raising of the dead, in masse. In Buddha’s time, there are stories of charlatans and magicians, able to fool people into believing that they were able to perform miracles. Buddha cautioned his disciples that, while they might potentially develop certain abilities, through advanced meditation, including the ability to perform apparent miracles; they should not give them too much importance. Such paranormal powers (Skt. siddhis) are considered no more miraculous than the miracle of being, the everyday power of the senses to see, hear, smell, taste, touch, think, and move. He admonished that they should refrain from demonstrating any such ability, as this would create the wrong impression of Buddhist goals, and values, and thus mislead the gullible. In Zen, there is nothing that is not miraculous. The ordinary is the miraculous. Thus, there is nothing to pursue outside of everyday life, or in some foreign place. Nonetheless, to awaken to Buddhist insight is considered nothing short of miraculous.

DIVINITY OF CHRIST The divinity of Christ, a divinity unique to Jesus, is not a proposition that a Buddhist can heartily embrace. If anyone is the Son of God, then surely all human beings, at least, are likewise sons, and or daughters, of God. How is it that God is so impotent, no pun intended, that he can manage to sire only one begotten son? Christians may claim special insight into this mystery, that others can not claim to claim. But how does that wash, that so many others should be left out of the holy family, however personally ignorant of God? The published, projected statistics on the promised rapture are not that promising. A lot of us are going to miss the bus. Furthermore, if humans are, indeed, created in the image of God, so must be all of their cousins, the other species, in some wise. Unless we are to believe that all lesser beings are back-to-the-drawing- board prototypes, that didn’t quite make it all the way to the Creator’s image. Or that some underlings, trainees in the University of Intelligent Design, did all the workups for God, the great design director. Until, in frustration, he had to take over. If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself. Until, finally, with the creation of Adam and Eve, God finally hit pay dirt. Setting aside the seven-day scenario, this seems an example of massively inefficient, trial-and- error design. The eerie similarity of the great apes and other bipeds to human beings, seems to argue for an incremental process. Like software and hardware versions point-zero through one-billion point-zero and counting, just put it out there, bugs and all, and let consumer feedback guide the revisions. Here, the feedback, de-bugging process is what we call evolution. But this very suggestion sets off the most pitiful whining against evolution: Who you calling a monkey? Perhaps the other, non-human beings, from bipeds down to the lowliest organisms, the plant kingdom, even insentient matter, the solar system and the entire universe, are not created in God’s image at all. Mayhap they constitute some artificial background, a papier-mache stage-setting, for playing out the drama of God made flesh, exclusively in the form of human beings. Most human beings, according to the Christian screenplay, fall into this cast-of-trillions category, lives made meaningful only as extras, supporting roles to the stars, the leading men and ladies—Moses, Mary, Jesus, and his entourage. This scenario seems a bit less likely, and a tad more self-serving, with all due respect, than the idea that the universe—all of it, no exceptions—is on a more or less equal footing, in the eyes of its creator. That fall-of-a-sparrow thing, remember. In other words, the creation is, must be, all of it, divine, if any of it is. If it is, indeed, created. Or else, none of it is. All, or nothing, is created in the image of God. How could God be limited to human form? How can only humankind be created in the image of God? The predictable plot device, in this script, is the exclusive divinity of one being. We really love a winner. That one human being, in the whole of spacetime, would be singled out to be the sole carrier of the God gene; alone in eternity, to bring salvation to all other believers, It beggars the imagination, which is part of its appeal. Just think of all the things that could have gone wrong, with this plan. There is no margin for error. Unless God does, indeed, micromanage every last detail, as devoted fans religiously believe. Of course, from the point of view of the religion promoting such a view, that would be the point. That is what makes their religion unique, after all. Mere humans cannot understand the grand scheme of things, in which this kind of high-stakes gamble pays off. But that is not our point. If God is able to invest divinity in only one incarnate being—among billions; nay, trillions when other-than-humans are included; gazillions, when the scientific evolution of humankind is taken into consideration; and an infinity when all of life, even on one poor little planet, is accounted for—then God must not be a very effective designer. Inelegantly inefficient and risky, God’s plan, to invest so much in only one life, with the dangerous unpredictability of free will thrown in for good measure. How much safer, and more effective, to endow all, or at least most, of your creatures, with at least some divinity? Why not spread it around a little? The performance effectiveness of God’s design intent, the cost/benefit ratio—as a percentage of prototypes—is diminishingly small, a miniscule, micro-fraction of a percent, and shrinking with each new birth. It is, by now, approaching zero, if not into negative numbers. Yet this makes more sense, to the believer, than to see the divinity in each and all. Buddhism would suggest that the actual effectiveness of the creative method, God’s or Nature’s, is much greater, averaging a much higher percentage of spiritual beings than one alone, in all of time and space up to the present, and until the Second Coming. However, awakening in the sense that Buddha experienced, is still a rarefied event. It is just not so rare as to be incredible.

SALVATION VIA SAVIOR The necessity of a savior, of intercession by an intermediary to attain salvation, is a corollary to the singular, exclusive divinity of Christ. A bumper sticker attributes a saying to Gandhi:

I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.

No offense, no disrespect intended, toward Jesus Christ here, nor to any genuine Christians. If only more Christians lived up to his example. To believe in, and rely upon a savior, can be either a form of humility, or a cop-out. The chaotic unpredictability and unrelenting suffering in life; can lead anyone to a state of desperation. In dire straits, it is tempting to turn to a savior, to turn our life over to an ideal, to surrender our selfish clinging, and give up our sense of personal control. Such devotion is much like the attitude of surrender, in Zen. But in Zen, we do not look to a savior to make things better, nor to save our soul, even after death. We surrender in zazen; it is a posture of surrender; fight or fight is impossible. We surrender beliefs, opinions, the idea of an immortal soul, or even the idea of becoming a buddha. Shakyamuni Buddha is not a personal savior. Indeed, his final directive is recorded as admonishing us: Work out your own salvation, or Be a lamp unto your own feet. Fortunately, he also prescribed the way to do so, based on his own harrowing experience. In other words, do thou likewise; do it yourself. Do what Buddha did. Buddhist salvation, however, has nothing to do with being reborn in heaven, or escaping hell. It has to do with waking up to the reality of this existence: living, dying, and, yes, being reborn, in harmony with it. Most suffering in life comes from resistance to life. We are reborn every moment in Zen, like a snake molting its skin continuously. In salvation of this kind, we are saved from our own ignorance by our own efforts, which begin with unconditional surrender. It is said that salvation does not come as a result of personal merit, but that the buddhas and bodhisattvas, through their compassion, help us. This may be taken to mean that help appears in the form of teachers, when the student is ready. Help in the form of teachings that have been preserved, and to which we have been exposed. The kindness of bodhisattvas includes parents, siblings and others we encounter in life. Some may appear as negative bodhisattvas, teaching us the dharma in ways we do not appreciate. Or help may be understood as more mystical in nature. If one has deep and genuine experience of salvation, it doesn’t matter where it comes from.

ABSOLUTION BY PROXY The cycle of sin, repentance, confession, forgiveness, redemption and absolution, is one of the most enduring, and endearing, marks of Christianity. However, in its most public displays, such as the downfall of high-profile televangelists, it takes on the character of self-parody. It is almost as if a religious leader is tempted to do that which is prohibited, perhaps mainly because it is prohibited, and most scandalously, in the area of sexuality. The very prohibition of certain forms of sexuality, defined as deviant, and therefore evil, seems to make them irresistible, especially if one is a preacher man, a man of the cloth. Holiness, like power, is apparently an aphrodisiac. Temptation being the work of the devil, the fall is, conveniently, not the preacher’s fault. Humans are weak, by definition. By dint of self-fulfilling prophecy, we will be tempted. And in the context of a forgiving God and congregation, we will just as surely be redeemed. One can fall from grace, before an audience of millions, confess and repent, and even continue to shepherd the sheep, after the fall! What could be more copasetic? The familiar ritual, of acknowledgement and correcting, is somewhat akin to Buddhism’s Repentances and Refuges, covered in detail later (see Basics of Buddhism). However, repentance, and taking refuge in the Three Treasures of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, are personal, inner practices. They comprise less-than ostentatious displays of contrition, combined with social interaction, or making amends. Personal redemption is not amenable to intervention by others, such as a priest or minister, though they may be called upon for support. And we do conduct regular ceremonies of renewing Vows and Precepts. But in Zen, no one can intercede in the karmic consequences of our actions. A teacher can, however, help us to understand, or embrace, the nature and inevitability of karma, and to translate our acceptance into appropriate action in the present. Personal acts of genuine forgiveness may mitigate the karmic entanglement of the forgiver with the offender, but they do not directly affect the karma consequences of the offense. Widely reported cases of victims of crime, who forgive the perpetrator, reveal an admirable capacity for suffering, and for compassion for the criminal. But forgiveness, for the murderer of a family member, for example, does not expunge the karmic consequences for the perpetrator. If murderers escape the death penalty, whether or not as a consequence of forgiveness, it facilitates their potential mitigation of karmic consequences, by extending their lifetime. It is necessary to be alive, in order to repent and take refuge. Insight is necessary to overcome ignorance, to have some hope of redemption, in the personal, not social, sense. This is the only, or most salient, value of longevity, in Buddhism. It buys us more time to wake up, spiritually. The most egregious corruption of forgiveness, a canard from the perspective of Buddhism, is that of absolution, the notion that designated persons can absolve the sins of others, by virtue of their position as clerics. It us especially obvious when the absolvers turn out to be sinners themselves. By what earthly contract, or what unearthly endowment, does anyone lay claim to the power to intervene in the natural laws of retribution? By what perversion of entrustment, does anyone buy into this scam? Even the most holy of persons, if there is such a person, could not change the karmic effects, or mitigate the suffering, of another person, let alone absolve them. It is entirely up to the perpetrator. For like reasons, the idea of exorcism is similarly suspect. It is said that there is no stench of holiness in Zen. These are some of the reasons.

CONVERSION BY COERCION Buddhists do not proselytize. When well-intentioned Christians persist in trying to convert others, regardless of whether they have their own, perfectly serviceable, religion, it causes us to recall the original, twelve apostles. They were following the apostolic imperative, to spread the Gospel, as Jesus is said to have charged them with doing. But these good men, two thousand years or so ago, were spreading the word to those who had never heard it, some not pleased to hear it, and putting their lives at risk, into the bargain. For today’s friendly neighborhood missionaries to see themselves as apostles in the original mode, while proselytizing the folks next door, or in a targeted neighborhood of unbelievers, seems the height of self-deception. To presume that their religion is superior to that of their targets, is surely the height of spiritual arrogance. These days, most citizens of the First and Second Worlds, and even the Third World, have surely had ample exposure to Christianity, and for whatever reason, have pursued other paths. This is why evangelism is so active in the Third World, where there is not already a church on every corner. Converting members of other religions to the one, true faith, can justifiably be seen as a mission of hegemony, first, saving souls, second. However, going into foreign countries and doing good works, with no expectation of reaping new converts, is another matter entirely. These true believers, largely missionaries of evangelical Christian denominations, are often at grave risk, and willingly put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of their beliefs. They genuinely believe that they are saving souls, or at least bodies. In saving bodies, they provide the opportunity for those souls to save themselves. Buddhists are officially discouraged from proselytizing, by doctrine. The admonition against crusading may also be good advice for modern Christians, who believe in soul-saving, for reasons cited. But for Buddhists, who do not, it is an article of faith. For a Buddhist to preach to others who have not asked for it, is a non-Buddhist act. To impose our beliefs on others through any means, by direct or indirect coercion, is inherently demeaning to the innate spirituality of those targeted for conversion. That some missions succeed in converting large groups of people to their religion, by force or coercion, is no proof of authenticity. It may be seen, instead, as proof of the arbitrary nature of religion-as-crusade. A religion imposed by force may be as good as the one it replaced, but it can be no better. It is hard to believe that God, himself, would have a dog in this hunt. Buddhism does inculcate a certain sense of urgency, that there is no time to waste, regarding our personal pursuit of practice and enlightenment. And it suggests that the most we can do, in engaging society, is to share the buddhadharma with others. But, Buddhism is not engaged in a unilateral war to save the world. It promotes peace and compassion, instead. Why would anyone insist that others accept and endorse their belief system? Perhaps they do not have much confidence in their faith. Buddhism has no apostolic or other imperative, to save others from eternal damnation. It does offer a practice designed to help others to save themselves from ignorance. Overcoming one’s own ignorance is the only hope for peace in the world.

CHRISTIANS ARE NOT CHRISTIANS; BUDDHISTS ARE NOT BUDDHISTS If someone asks, What are you? it usually elicits identity of religion: I am a Christian. But in Buddhism, this label is recognized for what it is: a label. The term Christian, or Buddhist, cannot begin to contain, let alone convey, what it means. Again, designations of Buddhism versus Christianity must come to an end for the individual, before any interfaith understanding becomes possible. From a concrete perspective—that is, of reality outside of human conception—there cannot be any such thing as Buddhism, or Christianity. Better to discard all such labels of our self-identity, in order to see the sameness that bridges the perceived religious distinctions between us. The practitioner of Zen Buddhism who declares, I am also a Christian is, with the very first word, completely off-track. There cannot be any such thing as I, to consider itself to be Buddhist or Christian. In Buddhism there is no I that can be Christian, or, for that matter, Buddhist. This is, in fact, the truth that Buddhism points to. Buddhism teaches us that there are no Buddhists. Any such categorization is considered provisional in Zen, and thus bereft of any connection to concrete reality. Persons who regards themselves as Christian may, eventually, come to the same conclusion independently, that the self is empty of self. Or it may become clear through the practice of meditation, through living a Zen life, and assimilating the teachings of Buddhism. This no-I is the starting point for Buddhists, obviously not for Christians. The Zen practitioner must ultimately forsake even the identity of Buddhist. In any interfaith dialog, both sides must set aside their exclusivist approach to faith. There can be no real Christian-Buddhist dialog, unless and until those involved in the dialog are no longer Buddhists, as opposed to Christians, and vice-versa. Likewise, there can be no real debate between science and religion, unless and until there are no self-identified scientists and religionists, engaged in the debate. Otherwise, it is doomed to be an exercise in futility.

TOWARD A SCIENCE OF RELIGION In this chapter, we have attempted to summarize some of the salient differences between the worldview promulgated by Zen Buddhism, and that conventionally associated with the predominant religion of the culture, Christianity. Hinduism, Islam and Judaism, as well as others less prominent, may well share some of these beliefs, or may differ markedly. Again, conventional attitudes are being used herein, as a foil, to illuminate Zen Buddhism; particularly for those who have little or no exposure to it, compared to their familiarity with Christianity. This does not amount to a proposal to jettison Christianity, or the other great religions, in favor of Buddhism. Nor does it suggest some combinatorial approach, cobbling together a Frankenstein’s Monster of a religion, made of parts of others. It simply means that a personal approach to religious or spiritual practice does not preclude the application of reason to beliefs, though long-held beliefs may be supplanted by more open-ended attitudes, in the process. For any religion, one implication of accepting the truth of Buddhism, would be an enthusiastic embrace of the findings of science. For science, embracing the tenets of Buddhism would imply the possibility of a qualitatively different order of truth, one that is based upon a different standard of evidence. In The Universe in a Single Atom, the Dalai Lama declares that if the findings of science come into conflict with the teachings of Buddhism, it is Buddhism that must adapt, not science. But he also makes the point that science, for all its skepticism, does not disprove the existence of God: “For example, the fact that science has not proven the existence of God does not mean that God does not exist for those who practice in a theistic tradition.” This expresses the balance, between reasonable expectation and transcendent aspiration, embraced in Buddhism. The effect that meditation may have, upon our religious outlook, is to align the spiritual truth that we intuitively grasp, with the physical world that we experience through our senses. This would not, necessarily exclude the principles of science, which attempt to conform to the latter.

In the next chapter, the fourth and last treated as Past, we will survey some of the basic, traditional teachings of Buddhism. This will serve as a necessary introduction to the uninitiated, and as a refresher for the practitioner of Zen. It will also set the stage for the next section, focused on the Present, which will focus more sharply on our central thesis. We will attempt to position Zen as the middle way, between the conflicted poles of science and religion, and follow up with more detail on how we think it, Zen, actually works. This will, in turn, provide a platform for moving into the last section, looking to the Future. Therein, we will explore the potential for moving toward a religion that is based on rationality, and a science that embraces spirituality. We will then entertain the rapprochement of intelligence design, lower case, with evolution. And finally, we will venture a futuristic look, via what-if scenarios, speculating about the implications that pervasive Zen practice, and Buddhist insight, might have for society. D. BASICS OF BUDDHISM

This chapter wraps up our four-part dissertation on the Past, closing with a summary of some of the basic teachings of Buddhism. You may wonder why we set Buddhism in the context of the past, rather than the present. One reason is that it is 2500 years old. Another, more germane, is that we all reinvent Zen, the living form of Buddhism. That is, we make Buddhism relevant, by practicing in the present. Another reason is that all received wisdom, including any in this book, is of the past, if only the immediate past. That does not mean that it cannot be relevant to the present, but it requires hard work to make it so. Reading books about Zen may be a necessary step in that direction for you, but it is not sufficient. If you already know something of Buddhism, but not much about Zen, this chapter may serve as a refresher course. You will encounter a certain amount of redundancy, in the explications of what appear to be separate models of Buddhist doctrine, as the principles of Buddhism are woven through its teachings in intricate and interrelated ways. Fortunately, they bear repeating, and we have attempted to express them in other words in different contexts, so that their meaning can seek in, and you can begin to see their connectedness, as well as that of Buddhism with Zen. It is not really possible to separate Zen, and its meditation, from Buddhism. Zen puts the essence of Buddhism into action, in the present moment. The following analysis does not pretend to be scholarly, let alone authoritative. Rather, it is based on my direct, admittedly limited, grasp of the dharma. For that reason, certain concepts, referenced from Buddhism and Zen, will not be exhaustively attributed by footnotes. It will be necessary to use some terms from early teachings, which render poorly into the English vernacular. From Sanskrit or Sino-Japanese, they will be noted, parenthetically, where appropriate. If you wish to research them further, there is an overabundance of reference material available online and in print publication. But accurately tracing the origin of the teaching is, fortunately, less important than its assiduous application in daily life. The teachings of Buddhism find their provenance in Buddha’s meditation, the alpha and omega, and sine qua non, of Zen praxis. Through his meditation, called “practice-experience” in Zen, Buddha saw clearly, that all of existence is inseparable from inexorable change (dukkha). This may seem little more than belaboring the obvious, but it gets personal. The unsatisfactory nature of our existence, including its inescapable imperfection, impermanence, and insubstantiality, is also the true nature of the so-called self. This is the bad news. This message was not popular in Buddha’s time, and is no more attractive to people today. But the good news is, that the real world is one in which everyday life (samsara), is inseparable from liberation (nirvana). This is one way of characterizing Buddha’s transformative experience. He witnessed the liberation of nirvana, in the midst of samsara. This is where his meditation transcended that of his forerunners. His first exposition of the implications, the First Sermon, is also called The Middle Way, or The Four Noble Truths. The fourth of these is the Eightfold Path of daily enlightened living. These are foundational to Buddhism, including Zen, and are further explored below. Another seminal teaching, the Twelve-Fold Chain of Interdependent Origination, incorporates the Five Aggregates of Clinging (skandhas) as well as Buddhism’s model of the Six Senses, which includes mind (citta). The Six Perfections (paramitas) include the Precepts, part of the liturgy practiced in Soto Zen. In ceremonies marking practice stages, Buddhists receive sixteen Precepts: verses of Repentance and Three Refuges, and the Three Pure, and Ten Grave Precepts. Liturgical sutras, chants and stanzas, originally from India, China and Japan, carry the teachings into daily, community practice. Some are appended, for your convenience and review (see Appendix), to support the discussion below. In this chapter, we will briefly review the most pertinent of Buddhist teachings, and discuss their relation to Zen meditation, which is, after all, where they originated. This chapter will also serve as a segue to the section that follows—Present—in which we will delve into the method and techniques of Zen meditation. Therein, we will outline an approach to Zen and daily life, that will hopefully help you to sort out, and cope with, the everyday stressors we share as a common legacy. Of having been born into interesting times, an old Chinese curse. Again, the main point, of this text, is that Zen is good for what ails you. It offers a way—not out of, but into—the issues we face today.

DESCRIPTION VERSUS PRESCRIPTION Certain Zen Buddhist teachings may be considered descriptions of reality, while others are more clearly prescriptions for practice. They are often combined. Description of the Buddha’s awakening, paired with a prescription for how to “do thou likewise.” The Four Noble truths, for example, are basically descriptions of reality, from the perspective of Buddha’s insight, coupled with instructions to be followed. The pithy statements of Zen masters are often descriptions of reality after insight, but can be misinterpreted as a prescription for practice before such experience. One such expression is Shunryu Suzuki’s “Things as it is,” quoted by David Chadwick, as Suzuki-roshi’s answer to the basic question of the meaning of Zen. If we take it to mean, simply, things as they are, there is not much motive to practice. If we understand it to mean that, things-as-they-are is exactly what we are seeking, spiritually, it is clear that the present, unsatisfactory nature of our experience, before enlightenment, is precisely the problem. And that something must profoundly change, in the quality of that experience, in order for us to understand what Master Suzuki really means. A description, not a prescription. The first Noble Truth describes the fundamental dynamic of existence as suffering, meaning inexorable change. The prescriptive side, of the first truth of suffering, is an admonition: to fully understand it. A related, descriptive teaching, is that of the Five Skandhas. The Four Noble Truths describe reality as it is; the Five Skandhas divide it into five relatively distinct groupings, each a cluster of conjoined components, an aggregate. This skandhas are presented as a given. They were, likely, received wisdom in Buddha’s time in India. The associated prescription is that, like Avalokiteshvara, we are to see through the aggregates, penetrating to their essential nature, which is emptiness. This is how we are to overcome our clinging to the five aggregates, as our reality. The second Noble Truth, describing the origin of suffering, likewise correlates with the 12-Fold Chain, as a detailed explication of the process of origination, describing how reality naturally evolves, to be the way it is. What we can do, about our existential dilemma, is prescribed in Buddhism’s system of prescriptions for practice, notably the fourth Noble Truth (the Path), which lays out eight daily dimensions of practice, that we are to follow; the Paramitas, which illustrate six behaviors—generosity, precepts, patience, endurance, meditation and wisdom—that we are to engage, in a process of perfecting; and the pursuit of a balanced approach, to actualizing the Three Treasures of insight, study, and community, in daily life. Dharma is not just the teachings, as preserved in dry tomes of text. The rituals and protocols, that form community service around meditation sessions, are also teachings. Chants and recitals, performed as Soto Zen liturgy, contain recordings of ancient teachings from India, China, and Japan. But the chanting, itself, is also a teaching—the concrete experience of chanting—independent of its verbal, or conceptual, content. Sitting upright, in silent meditation, is the most intense, and direct, teaching of all. Zen prescriptions, and descriptions, are presented as models of reality, and do-it-yourself methods, before and after direct insight, respectively; rather than mere theory, speculation, or a competing philosophy or religion. They document first-person experience, that results from Zen’s meditation, and so are accessible to all. Their exposition will provide background to understand the next section, in which we attempt to place the Middle Way of Zen in the contemporary Christian, and secular, context. Any review of Buddhist teachings would be incomplete, without at least a brief review of the Three Treasures of Buddhism: community (sangha), teachings (dharma), and original nature (buddha). The role of sangha, and one’s action within it, cannot be separated from one’s study of the dharma, nor can either be divorced from insight into our buddha-nature, gained from meditation.

THREE TREASURES[DIAGRAM 1] The Three Treasures: the Original Nature, the Teachings, and the Community of Buddhists, more properly constitute a complete value system, than separate teachings. They are usually expressed in their Sanskrit terms: sangha, the community of living practitioners as well as historical Ancestors; dharma, the teaching as transmitted from generation to generation, in oral or written form, and as witnessed in meditative contemplation; and buddha, the direct experience of our original, awakened nature (from a Sanskrit root meaning awake). Buddha refers to the historical founder, Shakyamuni, when capitalized. Buddhists take refuge in these Three Jewels, and it is said there is no true Buddhism, without all three in harmony. When Shakyamuni Buddha (Sanskrit for sage of the Shakya clan) experienced a transformative experience in meditation, it was the beginning of Buddhism. He was not a Buddhist, of course. He is highly regarded as the founder. He had no teacher who shared, or transmitted, this insight, and is revered (not worshipped) for this reason. He is also admired for his compassion, reflected in his decision to try to teach others, and his unsurpassed, skillful means in doing so. He was uniquely capable of clarifying the way, for contemporaries, in all walks and stations of life, to experience the same insight. His first sermon was the first example of the Three Treasures in action, in that it derived from insight into his true or original nature (buddha), consisted of the first spoken teaching (dharma), and was heard by the five monks with whom he had been traveling, and training (sangha). It is said that all of Buddha’s teachings, for the remaining 50 or so years of his life, were, in effect, variations on, and expansions of, this first sermon. He developed a lifestyle, based on this insight, living with his followers—the original Order of monks, nuns, as well as lay people—integrating the Three Jewels of meditation, study, and community, into a comprehensive, daily life practice. The Order stood as a radical and revolutionary alternative, to the caste-based society of India of 2500 years ago. Its lay and monastic versions today, represent a viable alternative, to the profound lack of community, spiritual insight, and compassionate understanding, so typical of Western society today.

FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS [DIAGRAM 2] One of Buddhism’s best-known teachings, also referred to as the First Sermon, the Middle Way, or Setting in Motion the Wheel of the Law; the Four Noble Truths comprise a concise summary of the insight Buddha experienced in meditation, and its immediate implications for his fellow monks. Truth, and law, as used here, are both interchangeable with dharma. In this, the first teaching attributed to Buddha, he rejects the extremes of indulgence in self-gratification, and the disciplines of self- mortification, both prescribed methods of the time, as equally unprofitable, in terms of salvation. He defines the Middle Way as the recommended, alternative path. He attempts to point the way to his revelatory experience, through a formulation of four inter-related principles: the existence; the origin; the cessation; and the path, leading to cessation; of dukkha. Dukkha, he identified as the profoundly unsatisfactory, but essential, quality of ever-changing existence. For each of the four truths, Buddha prescribed an appropriate action: to fully understand the existence of suffering; to abandon its cause, craving; to realize its cessation, hopefully in this lifetime; and to follow the Noble Eightfold Path, as the way to complete cessation of suffering. A brief treatment of each of the four follows.

1. Existence The first Noble Truth states that there is, undeniably, existence of suffering in this world, or, indeed, in any such conceivable physical existence as this. It does not state, as often misquoted, that life is suffering. Buddhism is not simple pessimism. And it does not reify suffering, as actually existent. Dukkha, too, is empty of self-existence. The accompanying instruction is that we are to fully understand the existence of dukkha, as universal change, or attrition. The tendency to interpret “fully understand” as mere intellectual understanding, suggests that we substitute “penetrate through and through.” This phrase is sometimes used to describe the process of contemplating the illogical riddles (J. koan) associated with Rinzai Zen. To penetrate the suffering of the world, means not just accepting, or understanding it; but fully embracing it, penetrating to its essence. The essence of suffering is emptiness (shunyatta), according to Buddhism. Suffering, as with any other aspect of existence, is subject to impermanence, or change. Dukkha is not just the physical and emotional pain, that human and other sentient beings suffer. This is, of course, the main problem that Buddhism, and most philosophies and religions, address. Dukkha, in its full meaning, is the great operating principle of the universe, by which all being arises, abides, changes and decays. Changing and decaying is necessary to existence, allowing as it does for the arising of future beings. Each generation has to make way for the next. Humans, caught up in this, call it suffering. Allowing is an intrinsic connotation of Buddhist suffering, similar to its usage in the expression attributed to Jesus Christ, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” An attitude of allowing: to let it be, as it is, without interference, resistance, or rancor. This attitude naturally develops from Zen practice, and may be somewhat akin to the state of grace in Christianity, the grace to accept suffering, as a condition of existence. But it is not a passive acceptance in Buddhsim, and most crucially, is not an excuse for ignoring, or neglecting, the suffering of others, as in, It’s just their karma. In the Heart Sutra, chanted daily in most Zen centers and Buddhist monasteries, recites a list, of the attributes of emptiness. The last, “Given emptiness…no suffering, and no end of suffering” points to an aspect of the Middle Way, its seeming ambiguity. The Heart Sutra’s main point is that even the Buddhist teachings are empty. Not in the sense of meaningless, but that they are provisional, prior to insight, i.e., prescriptions. Only through direct insight, the actual experience of emptiness, can we see into the heart of Buddha’s teachings, including those set out in the First Sermon. That there can be both, no suffering and no end of suffering, captures the dualistic nature of suffering. It both ends and does not end. Suffering is of two kinds: natural, and intentional. Natural suffering is built into existence, in the form of change, as in the process of aging, sickness and dying. Mutually- and self-inflicted suffering, the man-made sort, involves choice, purpose, or intent. Suffering caused by one’s own ignorance, inflicted upon oneself and others, can come to an end, through awakening to compassion. But the natural suffering built into existence—sickness, aging and death—does not, can not, come to an end. Until, and unless, existence itself comes to an end. As long as there is existence, there is existence of natural suffering. It is the way in which existence exists. In its most universal manifestation, suffering is simply change. The collision of galaxies, stars going supernova, species going extinct; all are dukkha in action, on a cosmic scale. Universal change is no respecter of persons. And yet, the existence of the human person is, inextricably, one with it.

2. Origin The second Noble Truth, the Origin of suffering, is traditionally defined as thirst, or craving (trishna). Our own thirst for the pleasures of existence, and for existence itself, is the true cause of our suffering, according to Buddhism. Even the thirst for non- existence is the flip side of craving, a kind of existential cop-out. Craving, of various kinds, is the underlying source of suffering we visit upon others, even when unintentional. Consuming beyond one’s actual needs, for example, indirectly inflicts suffering upon those in need. The Buddhist image associated with this terrible craving is one of “hungry ghosts,” human spirits, whose bodies are distorted into an extreme caricature of hunger, with long, terribly skinny necks, and horribly distended bellies. Their mouths are huge, and wide open, to devour as much as possible. But it is never enough to fill their bellies, because it will not go through their thin necks. So they are perpetually dissatisfied, always hungry. Thirst, or hunger, is not only physical, but of innumerable kinds. People have the kinds of cravings they can afford to have. In poverty-stricken countries, it is for basic, biological needs for clean air, water, and nutritious food; shelter, warmth, and safety. In so-called advanced civilizations, where most of us are comfortably beyond biological needs, craving emerges as imaginary needs, such as for status, and can lead to neurosis. Thirst for non-existence, manifested in suicide, following financial loss, is one example. Buddhism teaches that we are to abandon, to relinquish, to give up, this craving. Not only of the physical kind, though that would be a good start. But also to let go of the sticking, clinging mind of attachment, attachment to our own opinions. People today often interpret this non-attachment, as equivalent to the New Age cliché of “letting go.” But Buddhism’s abandonment of clinging, is not just letting go of attachments, in the conventional sense. The New Age admonition to let go, is for the sake of improving behavior, attitude, and result; that is, with the goal of becoming better or happier people. But in Buddhism, it is a more primal letting go. It involves letting go of our most precious opinions, even opinions about attachment itself. Through acceptance of the natural tendency to be attached, say to our loved ones, the suffering that attends attachment can be mitigated. We can relinquish attachments, only in the midst of attachment, only when clearly seeing them for what they are. This can not be done by ignoring, or suppressing, attachment, or craving. We may naturally prefer the simpler prescription, to abandon any and all attachments, so as not to suffer from them anymore. Would it were so simple. You can run, but you cannot hide—especially from dukkha.

3. Cessation The third Noble Truth avers that there can be a cessation (nirodha) of suffering. This is the great promise of Buddhism, its version of spiritual candy, perhaps. But it is not given to us by the candy man. The instruction is to realize this cessation, and strive to do so, in this lifetime. As opposed, for example, to hoping to be reborn into paradise after death, or at least into better circumstances, after rebirth. Buddha, it seems, was nothing if not practical. He encouraged his followers not to gamble with their future, based on the beliefs and promises of others. He claimed, on his personal authority, to have experienced total cessation itself, for himself. And therefore, his followers could do so as well. All teachings of Buddhism come down to this one, essential instruction: Do thou likewise. Because Americans are do-it-yourselfers, this has great appeal, in our day and age. Zen meditation is the owner’s how-to manual. Mutually- and self-inflicted suffering can come to an end, through our own efforts. The natural suffering of aging, sickness and death, while endless, can be transformed through meditation and analysis. Our wholehearted embrace, and pragmatic acceptance, of these truths, is tantamount to enlightenment. But it is not, yet, awakening.

4. Path to Cessation The Path cannot be separated from Cessation. In practice, all four Noble Truths are intricately interrelated, and it is said, that fully penetrating the meaning of any one of them, necessarily involves the clarification of all of the others. Understanding the existence of dukkha cannot be separated from abandoning its origin; neither can be separated from the realization of its cessation; and all of the above cannot be separated from following the Path. The Noble Eightfold Path comprises a deceptively simple, incredibly comprehensive, eight-dimensional model of daily life practice. Its ingenious design deserves and demands further explication, to clarify what it means for us to follow it, completely.

NOBLE EIGHTFOLD PATH [DIAGRAM 3 & 3A] The fourth Noble Truth is the Noble Eightfold Path, the Way (marga). It lays out an all- encompassing method, to actualize cessation of suffering, in everyday life. Again, the promise of Buddhism is not to eliminate suffering, but to transcend it, in the midst of it. The way is articulated in eight dimensions, usually referred to as “right” behaviors, and attitudes. They are usually translated as: right view and thought (together comprising right wisdom); right speech, action, and livelihood (right or ethical conduct); and right effort, mindfulness and meditation, (right or self discipline). The charge, or challenge, is to cultivate, or follow, this Path. And, through its eight interactive dimensions, to actualize cessation of suffering, in the midst of life. The modifier, right, should not be understood as an adjective, opposed to wrong, but as an active verb. We right a boat that has capsized, in order to continue sailing. Other appropriate terms might be perfect: as in perfecting one’s view, or thought; or complete: making complete effort, practicing complete mindfulness, nothing left out, or bringing your livelihood to completion; or correct: correct speech, or action, or simply correcting course, each time we stray from the Path. If we take these same words as adjectives, they suggest a static state, rather than the dynamic reality that is Zen. Life is a verb, a movie. Adjectives are single frames, snapshots. In daily Zen practice, we engage in righting our view and thought; correcting our speech, action and livelihood; completing our effort, mindfulness, and meditation. This is a virtually endless process, continuing even over multiple lifetimes. In the Heart Sutra, the dissertation on emptiness includes: Given emptiness… there is… no suffering, no cause, no cessation, no path. In other words, the first teaching, of the Four Noble Truths and Eightfold Path, is also provisional. This restatement does not deny, or contradict, the earlier teaching, but qualifies it, in the sense of pending validation, or confirmation. This is part of the scientific basis of Zen. Confirmation comes about through your own, direct experience of the reality of emptiness, facilitated primarily through meditation. From this vantage point, on the cushion, we can come to fully understand the Four Noble Truths for the first time, and to embark upon the Noble Eightfold Path, wholeheartedly.

Nobility in Simplicity So, what is so noble about Buddhism’s Four Noble Truths? Usually defined as having to do with high ideals, and excellent moral character, noble also means rare, or inert, as in the noble gases. Both definitions have validity in regard to the Four Noble Truths. Deceptively simple in their formulation, on first reading they seem oriented to the avoidance of suffering, a somewhat ignoble goal, when self-centered in application. Deeper consideration reveals that they point out, in stark simplicity, four such fundamental principles, of the true condition of existence, that they rise to the level of nobility, a rarefied relevance, as associated with the four fundamental forces of physics. The nobility of humankind, and all sentient beings, is derived from surrender to the universal truth of these statements. Nobility, and morality, inhere in the humility, and courage, required to fully embrace them; to live fully, in the face of suffering the slings and arrows of dukkha. They are also rare, in that no other formulation of science, philosophy, or religion, captures the operative conditions of human existence more comprehensively, or succinctly. They are inert, in that they are entirely unaffected by circumstance. They don’t change with time, or with location in space. They are universal and absolute, as long as the physical universe exists. Like the diagnosis of an expert and insightful physician, the first Truth states the nature of the disease, the existence of suffering, as an inevitable consequence of existence itself. The second identifies its cause, craving. The third promises relief, through abandoning the cause, i.e. withdrawing from the addiction. Finally, the fourth prescribes treatment, a kind of daily therapy, if you will. As in medicine, where the cure can sometimes be very unpleasant, even worse than the disease, Buddhism’s prognosis is not entirely pleasant, its prescription not easy to take. This teaching was as discomfiting to hear in Buddha’s time as it may be to some ears today. It contradicted the prevalent views of the time, dear to the culture of ancient and modern India, as well as the West, such as the belief in the Atman, or immortal self-soul. Buddha was a reformer. His spiritual quest was not satisfied by the teachings he had received. Following his intuitive realization of the true condition of existence, he opted to teach others, though he had doubts that his insight could be taught, or that anyone could, or would, follow his way. This is the final dimension of nobility, unique to Buddhist teaching: it is taught, learned, and followed, for the sake of all others, before oneself.

SIX PERFECTIONS (PARAMITA) [DIAGRAM 4] The Six Perfections (paramita) consist of a set of actions and attributes, the perfecting of which, is necessary to the cessation of suffering. As such, they offer a practice that complements the Eightfold Path, discussed above. They form a kind of dynamic tautology, in that our practice of them, e.g. generosity, results in our being what we practice, i.e. generous. So they can be understood on several levels. Perfecting is better than perfection, in that the gerund, or verb form, implies a process, rather than a state of completion. In Zen meditation, we never imagine that we have attained the perfect posture, but only continue aiming at it, working our way through every bone in the body. We practice “posture paramita” on the cushion. Similarly, the aspirational teachings of Buddhism are ideals, toward which we strive, rather than pat states of perfection, that we can actually achieve. And yet, Buddhism holds forth the promise that, if we persevere, a transformational event will eventually take place, in our life. The term, ripening, may be most apropos, for full realization of the paramitas. A natural process takes place, nurtured by meditation, and the conscious study of the teachings, in which the fruits of the Paramitas become fully ripe, fully realized, in our lives. Paramita literally means “that which has reached the other shore.” In the diagram, they are presented in the traditional order, the perfection of: generosity; precepts; patience; exertion; meditation; and, finally, wisdom, which follows from perfecting the others. In the fuller examination that follows, we capitalize the terms, to distinguish their deeper meaning from the vernacular.

1. Generosity (Dana) Generosity is conventionally understood as a synonym of charity, typified by the giving of alms, and doing good works, such as sheltering the homeless, and feeding the hungry. In Buddhism, however, the meaning is turned 180 degrees around. The original Order, of monks and nuns in India, were homeless mendicants. They lived in the woods and caves, and would go into the neighborhoods and villages, holding out their bowl, one of their few possessions, for food. Villagers, and local leaders, would place food from the household meal in the bowl, and, perhaps later on, money and other valuables. But the villagers weren’t the only ones practicing Generosity. In fact, the mendicants practiced the greater charity, in allowing the hoi polloi, as well as the wealthy and powerful, to support Buddhism, in the only way they practically could, through in-kind donations and financial support. Monks were homeless beggars by choice, not necessity. Fast-forward to today, and the situation is basically the same. Not everyone can devote much time and effort to the propagation of Buddhism and Zen, let alone dedicate their entire life to it. Those who do—Zen priests, monks and nuns—are practicing Dana, serving the community. They do so through establishing practice places, offering dharma dialog and public talks, writing books, such as this one, and in general enhancing the practice of meditation, and the understanding of buddhadharma. Even though they may live ordinary, lay lives, they are still acting in the spirit of Dana. In their hearts, they are homeless, in the true meaning of the term (J. shukke). The traditional expression of gratitude to Zen priests, in dharma exchanges—such as the formal interview (J. dokusan) or public dharma combat (J. hossen)—is “Thank you for your teaching.” The teacher’s response, from the nurturing mind: “May you be well.” The important thing to understand, about the perfection of Generosity in Buddhism, is that it is not a one-way street. Those who can, actualize it by practicing the method of Buddhism directly, and sharing the dharma assets with others. Those who cannot, practice Dana by supporting those who do; by attending service, participating in group meditation, discussion, and home practice; and donating what they can, of in-kind materials and goods, as well as finances. This approach is typical of Christian churches, synagogues and mosques, as well as Zen temples. In the model of the Eightfold Path, the other major teaching that comprises a prescription for practice in daily life, Generosity would fall on the side of right, or ethical conduct, the outer person, whose actions are witnessed by others. Of course, true Generosity may be considered an internal trait, one that is not necessarily apparent. In fact, in the stories of the propagation of Zen throughout India, China, Japan and the far East, compassionate actions of Zen masters, on behalf of their students, often look like cruelty, regarded from a conventional perspective. Sometimes the most generous action, called “grandmotherly kindness” in Zen, can seem uncaring, or even abusive, such as striking a student with a stick, or a staff. Zen teachers sometimes go to extremes, to help their students break out of the shell of their ignorance. This is the Middle Way, in action. 2. Precepts (shila) When first they encounter them, most westerners probably view the Buddhist Precepts as something like the Ten Commandments of Christianity. Indeed, on one level they are prescriptions for right conduct—speech, action, and livelihood—activities that affect our relationship to others. But the Precepts are not simply rules for conduct for everyone. Like all of Buddha’s teaching, they are, first and foremost, to be applied to ourselves, and only then, to our relationship to others. They are never to be employed to criticize others. Buddhist Precepts may seem superficially similar to some of the ethical and moral prohibitions in other world religions. But one difference is, that there is no threat of punishment, explicit or implicit, for failing to comply; no hand of God, raised to strike you down, if you don’t. Instead, the Precepts are offered as the natural way, of being of a bodhisattva, or a buddha; attitudes that arise naturally, from awakening the heart of compassion. True morality, in Buddhism, is seen to be a natural consequence of this awakening, not of following a set of rules. And it is based on internal experience, rather than external authority. Thus, Precepts simply profile the natural, enlightened way to be. Precepts, along with Generosity, would fit into the right, or ethical, conduct side of the Eightfold Path. They are behaviors one does, or conversely, tries to avoid, which others can witness. They are also referred to as discipline, or as the natural attributes of buddhas and bodhisattvas, in that they describe the internal discipline, that comes about through awakening. Thus, Precepts, received externally, comprise dimensions of discipline, once they have been internalized through daily observance. When undergoing initiation into Zen Buddhism, we take refuge in the Three Treasures, vowing to cease doing harm, to do only good, and to do good for others. The latter are known as the Three Pure Precepts. It bears repeating that purity, in Buddhism, is not of the moral variety, but refers to non- duality. In lay initiation, (J. Jukai), Buddhists receive five of the Grave Precepts of buddhas and bodhisattvas. Stated first in positive, and then in prohibitive language, as recited in our ceremony:

1. Affirm life; Do not kill 2. Be giving; Do not take what is not freely given 3. Honor the body; Do not engage in sexual misconduct 4. Manifest truth; Do not speak falsely 5. Proceed clearly; Do not cloud the mind with intoxicants

In the Disciple ceremony (J. Zaike Tokudo), an additional five round out the ten Grave Precepts:

6. See only your own faults; Do not discuss the faults of others 7. Know self and other as one; Do not praise yourself at others’ expense 8. Share generously; Do not spare the Dharma assets 9. Actualize harmony; Do not indulge in anger 10. Know intimacy with all things; Do not defame the Three Treasures

There are many variations on these, including more esoteric versions (see Jukai in The Shambala Dictionary of Buddhism and Zen). Some, from the early days, seem quirky today, such as the prohibition against sleeping in high beds, or avoiding places where there is singing and dancing. Ceremonies today may differ from lineage to lineage, but the intent of the Precepts remains essentially the same. In Zen Buddhism, we say that we observe the Precepts. But we observe the precepts by breaking them. Going along, day by day, minding our own business, we are blithely unaware of the Precepts. When we realize, however, that we were, just this minute, engaged in a gossip session, about the follies and foibles of a mutual acquaintance, we recognize that we have just violated the sixth precept, not to discuss the faults of others. Of course, this precept is violated publicly, repeatedly, and quite gleefully, in the average political campaign. But then, we don’t expect the powers-that-be to adhere to Buddhist principles, at least not any time soon. Returning, again and again, to the practice of meditation, is more important than what we experience in any one sitting session. Similarly, returning again and again to observance of the Precepts, rather than attempting to eradicate the undesirable behavior in one fell swoop, is the most skillful means. Approached in this way, the Precepts become a living, dynamic teaching, rather than a list of dry rules of conduct to be studied intellectually. Precepts are like a “Zen mirror,” in which we see our actions reflected as they are, without the distortions of the ego-filter. It should be said that these Precepts are impossible to live up to, when understood literally. A literal interpretation of “do not kill,” for example, would suggest that we have to stop breathing, stop living. The body, after all, is constantly killing, on the microbial level, in order to defend its own life. But dying, even for this noble cause, would also violate the Precept. Killing yourself is still killing, and will simply lead to rebirth. Like the Four Noble Truths, penetrating the true meaning of one Precept, is tantamount to grasping all sixteen. In principle, Precepts are, each and all, inherent in each other. They are situational variations on the same theme: Do no harm, the first Pure Precept, from which all others derive.

3. Patience (kshanti) Patience, or forbearance, fits into the group of internal disciplines, along with Endurance and Contemplation, as well as (right) Effort, Mindfulness and Meditation, from the Eightfold Path. These are practices that others may not see, directly, in our outer behavior, and amount to aspirations, repeatedly challenged, in our own awareness. In Buddhism, the everyday world (samsara) of strife and stress, is sometimes referred to as the World of Patience, in that it sorely tries our patience. Most people would probably say that what tries their patience most, is relationships with other people; whether within the family (especially over holidays), or at work. Or, other drivers on the expressway, to name a severe example. But even the insentient world can try our patience. Everyday chores of maintaining a household, its repair and upkeep. A house’s job is to fall down; the householder’s is to prop it up. A money pit can really try your patience. Any situation wherein things seem to have a mind of their own, not readily bending to our will, is the world, or ocean, of samsara. Forbearance can be the most difficult side of Patience. It means others are treating you unfairly, even abusively. Zen does not suggest that we should be so passive as to let others walk all over us. That is not compassion. The history of Zen has shown that its standout Masters, the geniuses of Zen, have not been inclined to suffer fools gladly. Since dukkha is not a respecter of persons, circumstances may conspire to try our faith, whether in the mercy of God (see the Book of Job), or in the efficacy of zazen, to mitigate our stress. It is likely that, sooner or later, we will have to tolerate the intolerable, and suffer the insufferable. In these situations, it is best to be able to practice Forbearance, or Patience. The true Yogi is said to welcome adverse circumstance, as it offers the best opportunity for practice. In Zen, we practice Patience with the self, most intensely while sitting on the cushion. As we develop patience with our own impatient self, it becomes possible to be truly patient with others. Patience in Buddhism becomes genuine, when we recognize the root cause of our suffering to be primarily our own craving, and are able to relinquish grasping. In waking up to the true nature of suffering, we see that all others are also suffering, whether they know it or not. We are all in the same boat, making our way across the ocean of samsara. Seeing this clearly mitigates the suffering that we experience personally, and tend to blame on others. As the Tao te Ching says, “When the blaming begins there is no end to the blame.” Better not to even start, to nip it in the bud. It is important to understand the role of anger here, as well, the flip side of Patience. The Precept admonishes us not to indulge anger; it does not suggest that we not feel it. Anger is not always ego. There are circumstances that call for anger, where it is natural, and healthy, to feel it. When something or someone dear to us is endangered, for example, anger is to be expected. It is like a wake-up call, a call to action, as when your child runs into oncoming traffic. It comes from alarm, triggering the prevention of harm. Thus, it can be a form of Do no harm. Anger, however, can also become a knee-jerk reaction to any and all adverse circumstance, driving us to speech and action based on anger (e.g. while driving). This is when our indulgence of anger violates the Precept, and inhibits the perfection of Patience.

4. Energy (virya) Energy, or Exertion is, like Patience, primarily an internal discipline, though others can certainly observe the energetic exertion of our efforts. Diligence in meditation, for example, or in dedication to the needs of others, through charitable works. But in Zen, Exertion is most critical to our zazen, and therefore regarded as mainly internal. When most people begin practicing meditation, they have a lot of energy, and may exert themselves with great diligence, and dedication. After some time, however, the novelty wears off, and meditation becomes much more difficult. Resistance, to the effort required to continue, sets in on various levels, physical, as well as mental and emotional. Many people then give up, too soon for the meditation to have a long-lasting effect. This is where the essence of Virya comes into play, a deep resolve. Like a bulldog with a piece of raw meat, in Zen, we cannot let go of the determination to continue. The most important thing is to never give up. Regardless of circumstance, in the face of failure and depression, as well as success and joy, we return, repeatedly, to our cushion. A turning point in Zen practice, an important benchmark, is reached when meditation becomes a source of vital Energy, rather than something taking energy from us. You often hear people complain of not having the energy, let alone the time, for zazen. This is entirely backward. If sitting in meditation is not like charging your battery, you are probably doing something wrong. Your attitude certainly needs a tune-up. Energy from meditation carries over into everything we do. We find that we have more energy, and enthusiasm, to confront the daily challenges that once seemed to be draining us of energy. Eventually, our practice becomes 24x7. The things that formerly required great exertion, now become sources of revitalization, Energy. Like a great river, we can see ourselves as the source, where the water is draining away, or as the river itself, where the water from the many tributaries is flowing into, filling us to overflowing.

5. Contemplation (dhyana) Contemplation, sometimes translated as concentration, or meditation, is a traditional term, familiar to Chinese scholars as Dhyana, at the time that Bodhidharma appeared in China. When the pundits came calling, the story goes, he would turn to face the wall, in his cave at Shaolin (J. Shorin-ji) temple. They assumed that he was practicing Dhyana, contemplation of the wall. So Bodhidharma’s way of practice was called “wall-gazing,” and named Ch’an, phonetic for Dhyana in Chinese. Later, this practice was called Zen in Japan, the phonetic for Ch’an. Thus, the term Zen is actually an historical anomaly, based on a misconception of Bodhidharma’s practice, that resulted in a misnomer, “Zen.” For Bodhidharma (J. Daruma) was not practicing contemplation. He was practicing just sitting (J. shikantaza), not contemplating the mountain wall. In Zen, contemplation, of anything, is regarded to be a preliminary form of meditation. But Bodhidharma’s zazen, and ours, is considered the ultimate meditation, the same as that of Buddha. The method of contemplation, contemplating an object, whether physical or mental, we understand to be a way of getting beyond the delusional self, as an isolated entity. Contemplating a plum blossom, for example; after a sufficient time, all thoughts about it will diminish, leaving us with bare attention, a choiceless awareness, of it. There is just this thing, that people call a plum blossom; and there we are, contemplating it. Through repetition, the plum blossom has been drained, of all conceptual associations with it. Just as repeating a word, such as elephant, aloud, finally decouples the sound from its object. Gradually, the apparent distinction, between the object of contemplation and the subject contemplating, diminishes, becoming diaphonous. The practice of contemplation may eventually lead to Zen’s objectless meditation, but as long as there is an object of contemplation, there is, by definition, a subject contemplating upon an object. This is not Zen meditation. As we have seen, the name we have for Zen is a misnomer, which is ironically appropriate. For Zen is that which has no actual definition. It is “round and rolling, slippery and slick,” as my teacher used to say.

6. Wisdom (prajna) The realization of supreme wisdom may be the goal of some Buddhist philosophies. My teacher would simply say, “Every day is a good day in Zen; every day is a happy day.” So, the Wisdom to which we aspire in Zen, is nothing special. It is everyday, and has more to do with living a normal life, only different. A normal life is one that is caught up in the ignorance, and self-inflicted misery, that gets between us and our innate Wisdom. The process of wising up, then, is one of first recognizing, and renouncing, our own limitations, the built-in and intentional cravings that distort our experience, and appreciation, of existence. Secondly, we need to wake up to the rest of the story, laid out by the teachings of Buddhism in great detail. Enlightenment is recognizing this ignorance and craving, as the basic problem; practice- enlightenment is then putting these ideas into action, through meditation and study. Eventually, awakening to the true self must follow from this effort. But we are not yet done. Awakening is not self-clarifying. We need to then return to the cushion, and to our teacher, continuing to practice the Eightfold Path, and perfecting the Paramitas, on a daily basis. This is practice after awakening, as Buddha pursued, diligently, for the last 50 years of his life. Do thou likewise. This is the beginning of Wisdom. It’s the least we can do to repay our debt to Buddha, who may have learned renunciation from others, but was on his own, in his meditation. Unlike us, he had no teacher who could help with its clarification.

CHAIN OF INTERDEPENDENT ORIGINATION (PRATITYA-SAMUTPADA) [DIAGRAM 5]

From his deep contemplation, Buddha realized the wisdom of the Four Noble Truths, and deep insight into the process of the evolution of sentient beings, the Twelve-Fold Chain. While the first Noble Truth of suffering simply states the fact of its Existence, and charges us with fully understanding it, the second, its Origin, indicates how this existence comes to be. Similarly, Buddhism’s 12-Fold Chain of Interdependent Origination models a closed loop of causes and conditions, illustrating the cycle of existence in twelve links, like a chain, sometimes referred to as the chain of causation. The simplest formulation of mutual or dependent causality is expressed as: That this is, that is; if this is not, that is not. But the chain is not linear in form. It is more like a Mobius strip, closing on itself. The links can be seen as simultaneously arising, and mutually conditioning, suggesting Interdependent Origination, as a more accurate label. The links represent stages, or dimensions, of existence, not linear causality. They are not separable from each other, as causes and effects are conventionally regarded, but part of one whole. However, they can be usefully treated as lineal, where each can be regarded as conditioning the one following it, in sequential order in time. But the conditioning effect goes in reverse order as well, rather like the omni-directional theory of causality on the quantum level. Like hyperlinks on a computer, each is linked to all of the others. They are mutually conditioning, each to the others, but sequenced to identify proximate pairs.

1. Ignorance (avidya) Ignorance is positioned first, followed by Mental Formation, or Impulse, one of the Five Aggregates, which it conditions. The primal Impulse to exist arises from Ignorance. The conditioning is not so much of a causal nature, as it is of necessity. For example, the soil in a garden is a necessary condition for the growth of the garden, but cannot be said to be the cause, any more than the rain, or sunshine, can be considered prime causes. This Ignorance is not a willful, intentional ignoring of the truth, as it is often defined as a trait of humanity. It is, instead, a natural, even innocent, not-knowing. It is implied, that not knowing the unintended consequences (suffering), is precisely what leads to the impulse to exist. Buddhist Ignorance is a kind of first reason (as opposed to first cause), the raison d’etre, of all existence. Since Ignorance is the provenance of all that exists, each link in the chain of existence comes from, and can return to, Ignorance. This is why it is placed at the center of the model, and has a direct connection to each of the twelve other links.

2. Formation (samskara) Mental formation, or impulse, the second link (fourth skandha), can be understood as operative before birth, as well as during life. As one of the five aggregates, it can be thought of as our underlying motives and desires, a subliminal dimension of mind. So here, in Buddhism, is a very different take on the meaning of existence. It is self-willed, so to speak. It is not a matter of God’s will that we are born, nor is it simply a byproduct of our parents’ congress. And it is certainly not an accident, a term that implies a certain lack of intention. Implicit in Buddhism’s teaching is that all beings are here because they want to be here, in some primordial sense. This is very different from beliefs that God, or attitudes that our parents, bear responsibility for our existence. That we are solely responsible for our own being, is not hubris. We are not masters of destiny. Impulse also has the connotation of desire; in this context, the desire for existence itself. This places the responsibility for our existence, and for relieving our primal ignorance, upon ourselves, where it belongs. All forms of life partake in this desire, not solely humanity. No sentient being is entirely innocent of this desire, however inchoate. In the context of the doctrine of Rebirth, these first two links, Ignorance and Formation, constitute what is termed the remainder, conditioning influences left over from a previous existence. Taken together, they both condition the nature of the next, or present, life, through karmic consequence. This concept is far from that of reincarnation, a belief that the same person is reborn. The new birth is not the same person that died, but the karmic bundle, influences that condition the new birth, carry over from that person’s past life. Take my word for it.

3. Consciousness (vijnana) Impulse then conditions Consciousness, the third link (fifth skandha). Consciousness is the first stage of this present existence (note that birth has not yet occurred, in the linear sequence; primitive consciousness arises while the fetus is in the womb). The particular, personal consciousness of the present birth, termed the effect-consciousness, is being formed at this stage, conditioned by the prior life’s, called the cause-consciousness. Personal consciousness becomes what is associated with the “I- me-mine” self, or ego. It represents the first, fundamental bifurcation of the undifferentiated consciousness, that Buddhism teaches runs through all the senses, and is the underlying mind of being. The nature of primitive mind, that which precedes the arising of ordinary consciousness, may be considered the ground of sentient being. Though accessible to direct experience in meditation, through a process of regression, or withdrawal, it cannot even be called consciousness. It is not a trance state, either. It is the inmost Consciousness: Mind; in which consciousness, or no-consciousness, are mere concepts.

4. Name and Form (namarupa) Consciousness in turn conditions the arising of Name and Form, compactly rendered as Form (first skandha, rupa). Since, according to the model, the arising of Form takes place prior to birth, the conscious apprehension of form, in the womb, would have to be extremely rudimentary. We assume so, since we cannot remember. The beginning of individuation, the apprehension of the personal self, as something separate from the environment; would be the first splitting, of the supposedly unified, conscious experience of a fetus, characterized as oceanic awareness by Freud. There can scarcely be much awareness of temperature, for example, as the womb is the same temperature as the fetus. Motion on the mother’s part—walking, shifting from one posture to another— probably causes some sensation, however subtle, to register in the forming awareness of the fetus. But it must be relatively indistinct, mixed with a flood of sense impressions, in the fluid environment of the womb. Upside-down, at that! Form, as the external reality, is the material world of physics, defined by physical laws, as discovered by science. Of course, the fetus is subject to these laws as well, but is temporarily shielded from their full effect, by the sanctuary of the womb. At birth, their impact must be traumatic. After birth, physical laws are encountered by the infant, when it first learns to turn over, raise its head, crawl, sit up, stand, and walk. Gravity is a constant teacher, never varying from the laws that govern it; at a safe distance from the nearest black hole, at any rate. The infant is able to walk, only by coming into accord, or harmony, with local gravity. Fall down seven times, get up eight, a well-known saying of the 13 th Century founder of Soto Zen, Master Dogen, is a literal description of the process the infant goes through. Until it becomes one with gravity.

5. Six Senses (shadayatana) Name and Form further differentiates into, and conditions, the Six Senses, which in turn condition the nature of Contact. Perhaps, even the fetus begins to sort primordial sense data, into relatively separate impressions of light, versus sound, versus tactile sensation, a kind of primitive Perception. The six formative and mature senses of Buddhism include the usual five, but add mind, as the sixth. The thinking mind (citta) is included as a sense. The brain is an information processing organ, as are the eye, ear, nose, tongue and body (bones, flesh, and largely, skin). The brain receives its sensory impressions from the other five, in the form of sense-data. By the time the impulses reach the brain, they have already been filtered by the organ of origin, and to that degree, misrepresent the totality of experience. The six senses are typically presented in descending order, from the fine acuity of vision, to the coarse contact of tactility; and finally, the mind, reversing the logic of the order of the skandhas, which are sequenced from material form to consciousness. Each sense is said to have its own, subsidiary, consciousness. The consciousness of the eye is different from consciousness of the ear, both from that of the nose, those from the body, and the mind is different in quality from all five. Each is defined uniquely by its own realm, or world (dhatu), comprised of three components: the organ; the object; and the field, in which the transaction takes place. The components are as inseparable, however, as wave and particle in subatomic physics. And there is apparent overlap of the senses, in rare cases of synesthesia. It is worth taking some time to explore this complex internet of consciousness in greater detail, both because the model holds up pretty well, after two-and-a-half millennia, and the fact that the senses form the starting point, for Zen’s meditation. Before moving on to the Five Skandhas below, we will look deeper into the relation of the senses to the mind in Zen. Those who are interested in further research into the traditional Buddhist model of mind, are encouraged to start with the Surangama Sutra. We will continue for now, through the remaining links in the Chain.

6. Contact (sparsha) Contact with the world is conditioned by the sense organs, to state the obvious. Animals and plants all feel different kinds of contact, depending upon the nature of their sensory interface. The kinds of sensory contact, in turn, condition and determine the kinds of sensation that are registered by the consciousness. In general, these fall into simple pairs, such as pleasant and unpleasant, but sensation can also be neutral, such as mild tactile pressure, ambient light, or temperature that is not extreme enough to be uncomfortable. There is an old Zen story, about a monk who asks his teacher what can we do, when suffering from the heat in summer, or the cold of winter? The old man advises going to a place neither hot not cold. What this means is subject to a lot of interpretation, and is best answered on the meditation cushion, like any of the koans. Some may think it suggests escaping, to some mysterious realm. But one way to look at it is not very mystical. In order to feel warmth, that which is doing the feeling has to be cooler, than the temperature being felt. To feel cold, the body must be warmer than the cold. Thus, the feeling of cold is the feeling of warmth, and vice-versa. Where we place our attention defines the impression as cold, or warm. Ignoring the other side of the transaction, we feel exclusively warm, or cold. Again, the fetus likely does not feel temperature in the womb, as it is the same temperature as the mother’s body. In a similar way, aside from extreme conditions of exposure, the warmth feeling the cold, or the cold feeling the warmth, is a zero-sum outcome. A place neither hot, nor cold. The story concludes with the teacher admonishing the monk to finish, or kill, the monk: with cold, when it is cold; with heat, when it is hot. In other words, the person feeling the unpleasant temperature, is extra. If there is only the cold, only the heat, no problem. It is when there is a self, experiencing other, that the complaint arises. So, contact is essentially neutral. Reaction to it, sensation, is where the trouble begins.

7. Sensation (vedana) The prior five links—Consciousness, Name and Form, Six Senses, Contact, and Sensation—are attributes of the present existence, and according to this model, all arise in the womb. You are not yet born, but your personality is forming. Tactile sensation, in the womb, is probably highly muted, by the relative constancy of temperature in the amniotic fluid, as suggested above. It is, of course, further effected by the actions of the mother, and the environment in which she lives. Changes in light may be dimly registered by the forming retina, and the jostling of gravity, as mom is moving about, is probably felt. But those are not likely very differentiable, at this stage, from the fetus itself. The first sensation of otherness, that registers in the consciousness of the fetus, is likely to be that of sounds from outside the womb, such as dad’s voice, or, these days, the strains of a Mozart sonata. Sound, the sense of hearing, is given a special place in Buddhist meditation. The Bodhisattva of Compassion (Avalokiteshvara) is said to have come to spiritual awakening through hearing alone, hearing the sounds of suffering of the world. As aforementioned, several of Buddha’s disciples declared that their first, profound awakening, occurred through hearing. In meditation, many schools recommend deep listening, as a focal point. Zen, it cannot be over-emphasized, is a sensory method of learning, or unlearning, rather than intellectual. We unlearn everything we thought we knew. The process of meditation leads to re- experiencing the senses. This experience is through an awareness that is not dependent upon the senses, and so, ultimately, a kind of trans-sensual consciousness. It is consciousness of a different order, and on a different scale. This is implied by the line in the Heart Sutra that reads, “Given emptiness… no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind.”

8. Perception (samjna) Perception (third and middle skandha) is not included in the original model of the 12-Fold Chain, for historical reasons that are not germane, here. With its addition, the model has thirteen points total. Perception is included here, for purposes of congruency and consistency, between the two sets of teachings, the Chain and the Skandhas. It is placed, in the diagram, between Sensation and Craving, reasoning that a given sensation would not likely become a craving, without some form of perception intervening. If a sensation registers as pleasant, or desirable, a craving, to feel it again, would be the natural outcome. It could be argued that an inchoate, incoherent craving may arise directly, from a painful sensation, such as hunger, without the intercession of perception, as such. Especially, in the womb. Perception could be positioned, perhaps as logically, between Craving and Clinging, for similar reasons. A subliminal craving will not likely become a clinging, a compulsive returning to, or longing for, a prior experience already known; without a perception informing that memory. This may seem an obsessive, splitting of hairs. But it is helpful to divine the subtle and intricate workings, of the chain, in our mind. In any case, perception definitely conditions other links in the 12-Fold Chain. Most reliably, craving.

9. Craving (trishna) Craving is conditioned by many aspects of life, but most directly by Sensation, and its partner in crime, Perception. Pleasant sensations lead to attachment; unpleasant sensations, to aversion. Both attachment and aversion are regarded as the opposite sides of the same coin, Craving, or thirst. Craving for, or to avoid, something. Upon birth, the infant is abruptly thrown into a less friendly and unwelcoming world, where the warmth and comfort of the womb are left behind. This traumatic experience may, itself, be a source of a possibly mythical craving, psychology’s theoretical desire to return to the womb. Whatever credence we lend to that idea, we cannot deny that much of ordinary life—pursuing health, wealth and happiness —can be seen as driven by craving. We want more of the good things of life, as well as the better, best, and bigger. It seems that this thirst will never be quenched. This condition, of craven thirst, is represented in Zen iconography as the dragon seeking water, or the aforementioned hungry ghosts. Some rituals of Zen, notably taking refuge, imply a return, to a place of safety and sanctuary, or salvation. And awakening is said to be entering the “womb of the Tathagatas,” the ones who apprehend suchness, the truth of emptiness. Part of the transmission ceremony (J. Shiho) is conducted in a room draped in red, symbolic of this womb. Bodhisattvas are reborn as buddhas. These next three links—Craving, Clinging, and Becoming—are called the fruits of the present existence. They lead to, and condition, future rebirths. While the fruits are harvested in this lifetime, they become causal conditions, for the next. This is why Buddhism teaches that the root cause of suffering is unrelenting craving. It does not begin with birth, and it does not end with death. Thus, we have to proactively abandon craving, in order not to be forever caught up, in endless cycles of rebirth into similar, entrapping conditions. The principle of rebirth, which is not the same as the concept of reincarnation, and may not be as familiar, will be touched on briefly below, with the caveat that we cannot do it justice, at less than book length, or at least a full chapter. Which, again, the thesis of this text does not require.

10. Clinging (upadana) Craving then conditions Clinging, which drives two opposite actions: pursuit of pleasure, and avoidance of pain. Once we experience a sensation that is so pleasant, or necessary to survival, that it becomes a craving—and nothing else will satisfy that craving—then it may be called clinging. It becomes an addiction, identified with the survivalist self, to which we cling. We cling to life itself, which is understandable, with notable exceptions. There are circumstances, in which natural clinging to our own life, is superceded by a stronger desire, such as saving others from drowning, fire, or other calamities. This may lead to actions considered altruistic, or even heroic, such as sacrificing our own life, for the sake of others. On the other hand, suicide is an example of giving up on life, in the face of unbearable suffering. Clinging is a way of reacting to suffering, either of a physical kind, such as terminal, painful disease, or deterioration; or of a more psychological nature, such as the angst, or mental derangement, that drives an otherwise healthy person to take their own life, to end the suffering. Even when life is not directly threatened, some cravings—for food, for example—can grow to obsessive extremes, which then threaten our health, and even our life. The state of obesity in the US, currently considered of epidemic proportions, is an obvious example of a natural craving gone wrong. Abandoning craving, and its extension, clinging, then, is not an easy task. Buddha is said to have used expressions such as “pulling out the root,” and “knocking down the ridge-pole,” to illustrate the degree of difficulty of this challenge. It requires a suicidal level of intensity and urgency, without the actual suicide. Master Dogen coached us to sit as if our hair were on fire. That intense. This is sometimes called “the great death,” or dying on the cushion. The self does not survive, though the true body-mind may.

11. Becoming (bhava) The last line in the Buddha’s First Sermon says something like, “My heart’s deliverance is unassailable; this is the last birth; now there is no more becoming.” That there is no more Becoming, for Buddha, is an existential koan, an irrational riddle. What can it mean? What kind of being, does not include becoming? Buddha did not become a god, though according to the story, his last temptation was feeling elevated to the status of one. He touched the earth at that moment, confirming the ordinariness of his experience. This signifies that all humans have the potential to experience this rarified, transformative insight; that it is ordinary and natural, though rare. However, until and unless we can abandon craving and clinging, in the complete and thoroughgoing sense indicated above, clinging continues; forever conditioning becoming, the driving force of karma. The consequences, of karmic past actions, guide the becoming process of being, which leads, inexorably, to the next birth. The process of becoming, then, conditions the formative characteristics of that birth, including that of parentage.

12. Birth (jati) Finally, after all this, one is born (reborn, again). Again, there is no actual one that is reborn, but the utility of language to express this has found its limit. Birth follows from, and is effected by, all the above conditions, the most proximate being Becoming, the tendency to evolve along lines predicated upon our antecedent Craving, and Clinging. The experience of birth, in all its gory details that we cannot recall, is surely as traumatic as death. Nonetheless, we tend to fear and mourn the latter, while celebrating the former. The specific conditions of birth, further condition this present life. The most feared outcome is that of deformity, characterized by the automatic, instant counting of fingers and toes. Other conditions, such as deafness and mental impairment, are not evident until later in the child’s development, but are sources of anxiety for all parents, and the focus of much research in genetic science. The appearance of birth defects is not simply attributed to karma, in Buddhism, in a futile and simplistic rationalization, of what is otherwise difficult to accept. This would be equivalent to chalking up such unfortunate circumstances to God’s will, in a vain but understandable attempt to soften the impact. Again, Buddhism is not oriented to avoiding suffering, bur to confronting it head-on. But this does not mean that Buddhism claims it has all the answers. The doctrines of karma and rebirth, for example, do not pretend to offer facile solutions to some of life’s most mysterious, and painful, conundrums. In fact, like all of Zen’s truths, they tend to raise questions, rather than reassure with pat answers. The answers in Zen are mostly to be found in meditation. That is the method, the medium and the language, the best bet for resolution of life’s deepest riddles. Including birth, and its corollary, death. It may be appropriate here to touch briefly on the Buddhist principle of rebirth. Birth is rebirth in Buddhism; that is, the present birth is not conceived of as the one and only.

Rebirth The principle, or doctrine, of rebirth deals with one of the grey areas that emerge, from the teachings of Buddhism, too grey to clarify in any depth, in the space available here. Rebirth is often used interchangeably with reincarnation, but is not at all the same teaching. Contrasting the two may be the simplest way to clarify both. The doctrine of reincarnation, which predated Buddhism in India, posits a true self (atman), an entity that occupies the body before birth, and survives death. During the life period, it is incarnate. At the end of the present life, it discards the body and enters another to be reborn, thus the term, reincarnation. Much as we discard one set of clothing and don another. Buddhism’s rebirth is not predicated upon the existence of such a permanent, transmigrating soul, or self. Again, Buddhist teachings are based upon findings in meditation. Buddha found no evidence for the existence of this soul, indeed quite the opposite. Informed by direct insight, he taught the contrary doctrine of no-self, no-soul (anatman or anatta), which was, of course, unpopular. The teaching, that there is no soul, will be at least as unpopular in these times, when Christian, Judaic and Muslim beliefs all revere, and reify, the soul, if not a transmigrating version. Some sage said that good advice does not sound good to the ears, whereas poor advice does. Buddhism does not tell us what we want to hear, but the simple truth, however disagreeable. Another take-it-or-leave-it proposition, from the central teachings of Buddhism, is the inevitability of aging and death. They are integral to the process of living the present life, and as such, are conditioned by the nature of the present birth.

13. Aging and Death (jara-maranam) Aging and death combine to form the last of the links in the chain, here numbered thirteen, owing to the addition of the skandha of Perception to complete the model. They are usually combined with sickness, as a three-step shorthand for human suffering, and indeed for all sentient life. They represent the personal dimension of dukkha, expressed impersonally, as arising, abiding, changing, and decaying. It may have become apparent that the idea of arising is, itself, a kind of koan: What arises, and from what? The Chain is, precisely, a detailed explication of this very question. These two, final links in the chain—Birth, along with Aging and Death—are considered the seminal, conditioning characteristics in the present life, on the future existence, the next birth. The next cycle of existence will inevitably follow from rebirth, a birth conditioned by this present existence. We have seen that this model of Interdependent Origination indicates how we got to be where we are, in this existence. What we can do about it, is a different story; but it begins with recognizing our true provenance. Now, let’s revisit a few links in the Chain that cry out for further discussion, and some explanation of their connection to other Buddhist teachings.

Clinging and Renunciation In Zen Buddhism, there are different kinds, or levels, of clinging, with correspondingly different degrees of abandonment. These are characterized by Master Dogen in describing three different kinds of monks, or more properly, their attitudes toward practice. Some monks are unable to give up their family, their name, status, and inheritance. Other monks are able to relinquish clinging to family, but are not able to give up clinging to bodily health; unwilling to risk their life for the sake of enlightenment. Still others are willing to sacrifice even their health and, ultimately, their life, for the sake of enlightenment. But even at this extreme level of devotion, Master Dogen cautions, they are unable to relinquish their own, clinging mind. Only the highest levels of Zen monks, nuns, or laypersons, according to this view, are able to give up their own, cherished opinions, the stubborn clinging of the discriminating, or monkey, mind. This is the most insidious form of clinging, and is at the root of all the others. Even those whose outer appearance, and behavior, indicates that they have abandoned all clinging, may still be deluded, their behavior driven by clinging to a concept of enlightenment. Thus, true renunciation is a tricky business. A person who shaves the head and dons the robe is doing what is known, generally, as physical renunciation. Mental and emotional renunciation often follow from traumatic experience of great loss, and accompanying grief. It may be a temporary condition, or it may morph into genuine renunciation. Genuine renunciation comes from seeing through delusion, to the essential emptiness (shunyatta), that Buddhism teaches is the dynamic ground of reality. It has little or nothing to do with outward appearances. The “thirty-two marks of a Buddha” are a kind of cosmic caricature of this truth, we may presume, concocted to stymie the propensity of earnest seekers to look for enlightenment in all the wrong places. A person who appears normal, by societal standards, may have experienced genuine renunciation in spite of their appearance, and in the midst of life. You can’t tell this book by its cover. An old master stated that, in the process of going from everyday clinging mind, to the liberated mind of Zen, there are three basic stages, or steps. First, one has to do self-renunciation. This means renouncing the imputed self, but also, that you and only you can do renunciation for yourself. Second, one has to do self-awakening. No one, not even Buddha, can do it for you. And in a real sense, it is beyond doing, in the conventional sense. Third, you must do self-clarification. Awakening is not self- explanatory. It requires practice after enlightenment, to clarify it. Buddha spent the remaining 50 years of his life doing just that, clarifying his insight for himself, as well as for others. This chapter is a poor attempt to relate some of the teachings that resulted from that effort. Let’s take a closer look at Buddhist teachings on the senses, before wrapping up with the skandhas, the aggregates that make up Clinging.

Tripartite Dhatu A bit more on the Six Senses seems in order, as they are so intimately familiar, that we tend to take them, and our understanding of them, for granted. But they are not as simple as they may seem. The realm, or dhatu, of each sense, for example, sight, is modeled with three elements: the eye; the form and color that it senses; and the field of light and dark in which vision operates. Each dhatu is then tripartite, consisting of its organ, its object, and the field in which it functions. The latter is the slice of the electro-chemical-magnetic spectrum, to which it is receptive. The eye has, as its object, color and contrast, form in the visual sense, and is reactive to light. The hearing organ is not attuned to light, of course, but instead, sensitive to lower-frequency sound (compression) waves in the atmosphere; or submerged, in liquid; or transmitted through the body’s tissues and bones. Same for the body’s mass and skin, which reacts to such gross-level energies as gravity, heat and cold, friction and pressure. Similar for smell and taste, though they operate more through chemical reactions. The thinking mind fits this tripod formula as well: the brain as organ; processing sense perception, and forming concepts as objects; its field, the nexus of the five senses and central nervous system. The three-part structure totes up to eighteen dhatus in all, when all six sense- realms are taken into account. Each different sense-realm has a unique, subsidiary consciousness, differentiated by the type of sense-data to which the organ is specifically adapted. Thus, the dhatu of sight is different from that of sound, both differ from touch, and so on. Senses have a chemical component, smell and taste, most obviously, though the retina also secretes chemicals when stimulated by light, which partly explains the familiar after-image effect. And each sense has its own process, and differing quality, of sensory adaptation as well, as we observe in Zen meditation. A minority of people experience a condition called synesthesia, in which the senses effect each other. Sounds trigger colors, and vice-versa. We might suppose that this overlapping of boundaries occurs in the subsidiary consciousness, perhaps as a minor malfunction of the sorting function of the sixth sense, the brain.

Mind as Sense The brain, according to this ancient model, is clearly a sense organ, stretching the term a bit, whose object is thought. A kind of omnibus overseer, and interpreter of data from the other sense organs. In collusion with the central nervous system, it is definitely biased toward survival. It is not the total mind, but only the faculty oriented to discrimination. As such, it can tell if something in the environment is moving, or standing still; charging or evading us; and can differentiate edible mushrooms from poisonous dopplegangers. Eastern philosophy makes subtle distinctions between the mind’s discriminating capacity (citta) and its oversight function (manas), which are not pertinent here. The basic point is that mind is the sixth sense of Zen, the organizing function that finds its central organ in the brain and nervous system, which are both chemical and electrical. Even though a given organ may be damaged—e.g. the eye, resulting in blindness; or the ear, resulting in deafness—the faculty for seeing, or hearing, still exists, in this mind. The faculty of each sense does not depend on either, or all, of the three elements being intact— its organ, its object, or its field—in order to function in the mind. The blind still have the faculty of seeing, just as the sighted see the dark, when their eyes are closed. The deaf still have the faculty of hearing, with or without the presence of sound. Likewise, the mind does not depend upon its objects, to function. Thus, during sleep, the mind perceives-conceives objects where there are none, but only the flux and flow of energy, shuttling on the nervous system. The brain may not be directly connected to outside fields of energy, though theories about a paranormal “sixth sense” posit the possibility. But it receives and organizes data from the other five senses, continuously. It is the seat of perception-conception, the middle skandha, and the integrative engine of sensory consciousness. The thinking mind resides just on the boundary, so to speak, between the physicality of form, and the spirituality of emptiness. Its realm is the interaction of the material, with the immaterial, the cutting edge of form and emptiness.

Mind as Wisdom The data received, from contact of the senses (sensation) with the outer world (form), is not pure, but already distorted by the limitations of each sense organ (perception); and further skewed by the brain in interpreting it (conception). Interpretation is biased, based on the monkey’s hardwired preference for survival (mental formation). Purity is used, here, in the Buddhist sense, meaning non- dual, rather than connoting morality. Buddha taught that the six senses are like knots, tied in a scarf. Each knot, each dhatu, is usually perceived (and conceived) as separate from the others. But they are, in this metaphor, joined by an underlying and undifferentiated consciousness, one that runs through all six, represented by the scarf itself. This may amount to a metaphorical explanation of the aforementioned phenomenon of synesthesia. The challenge in Zen meditation is to allow the knots to unravel, one at a time, beginning with any one of the six. The sense of hearing is the most amenable to untying, according to the testimony of several of Buddha’s awakened disciples. This unraveling of the senses may be regarded as a dharma gate; to the underlying, undifferentiated consciousness, or wisdom. We would presume that the sixth, mind, would be least amenable to unraveling, as its very function is to coordinate and integrate the others. The Chinese and Japanese terms for mind (hsin and shin, respectively) include not only intellectual and analytical functions of the brain, but also heart, the emotions and intuition. Three kinds, or aspects, of mind (J. sanshin) are posited: the magnanimous, the nurturing, and the joyful. They are, together, the One Mind cultivated in Zen meditation. Bodhi Mind (bodhicitta), the Wisdom Mind of Buddhism, is not limited to the function of the brain. It is sometimes defined as that which apprehends the real, behind or beyond the apparent. In it, there is no separation of self and other. It includes samskara, mental formations, the immaterial equivalent to rupa, the material world of form. Both are givens, that precede, and condition, the form of the newborn body and mind, like a kind of karmic DNA. Bodhi is the seat of awakening, and inmost consciousness. It is not dependent on the objects of the five senses, or those of the thinking mind, for its awakening. It springs from transcendence of the material and immaterial, the merging of form and emptiness.

Senses and Skandhas From this analysis, it is clear that the senses cannot be separated from the skandhas. Form, sensation, perception, formation, and consciousness are aggregates that are experienced through seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching and thinking. The five aggregates and six senses, taken together, provide a complete, manifold picture of the world-as-it-is, or at least the world-as-we-know-it. Meditation allows the world of enlightenment to open upon us, through a transcendence of the senses, to a deeper level of awareness. It is contingent upon clearly seeing, through trans-sensory awareness, that the skandhas are indeed empty, attested to by Avalokiteshvara’s experience, as recounted in the Heart Sutra.

FIVE AGGREGATES[DIAGRAM 6] Certain teachings of Buddhism and Zen, such as the above 12-Fold Chain, are most appropriately regarded as descriptions of findings, proposing researchable theories, in that they are based on first-person evidence, gathered experimentally, in meditation. They are scientific, in the sense that the written account is studied as background, pending confirmation through testing. We mount the bench test, when we sit in meditation. Among the most central of these backgrounders, and basic to a preliminary understanding of Buddhism, are the Five Skandhas, or Aggregates of Clinging. These describe a quintet of distinguishable categories of existence, and how they interact. Like five heaps of laundry, they are separate, until they are thrown into the washer and dryer. Zen practice, particularly zazen, becomes a prescription for action to be taken, to directly examine, these five conditions. What follows, is an attempt to clarify these challenging ideas, offered here as hypotheses, to be tested in meditation, and daily life. Like all formulations that purport to divide reality into subsets, the five cannot be finally separated, but only as a manner of illustrating relative clumping, conceptual boundaries in a unified field. This paradigm is not exactly like the five petals of a flower, where each manifests as separate, but relatively equal. Each aggregate is different in kind, and all are linked to each other, in an interactive dynamic. Skandhas are not conceived as a linear hierarchy, like steps on a ladder, though there is a scale implied, from the gross level of matter, on one end, to the diaphanous nature of consciousness, on the other. The five aggregates of clinging can be seen as an extension of the first Noble Truth of existence of suffering, further articulating exactly how it manifests, in fivefold form. They represent a subtle decoupling of unitary reality, into relatively distinct heaps, or aggregates. An aggregate appears to be a whole, but is actually made up of many disparate parts, like granite, or a jellyfish. In translation, the five are referred to variously as form, feeling, thought, impulse and consciousness, or matter, sensation, perception, formation and consciousness. Each, as an aggregate, has many connotations, many parts. The model of the skandhas, as a further refinement of the first Noble Truth, most pertinently challenges the locus of the self. That is, the self-identified-self consists of material form of the body and its environ; sensations as registered through the senses; their interpretation as perceptions (and conceptions formed there-from); impulses that proceed—as well as follow from—sensory experience; and, finally, the central consciousness. All are wishfully attributed to the unique, individuated self, to a lesser or greater degree. But all are essentially empty, according to this testimony. Thus this teaching, and indeed all teachings of Buddhism, are ultimately very personal. They are not a dry, objective description of reality, outside of humanity. The most important attribute of the skandhas is their emptiness: the absence of actual entity, substantiality, or permanence of form, feeling, and the rest. They are not to be reified, as things concretely existing, outside the mind of human beings. The aggregates, largely, represent key subsets of the so-called self, as conceived: patched together out of parts, like Frankenstein’s monster. But, like the five digits of the hand, all are connected. The emptiness—insubstantiality, imperfection, and impermanence—of the aggregates underpins the Buddhist teaching of no-self, or no-soul (anatta). This can not be construed, of course, as a denial of the Christian concept of a soul, as Christianity did not exist for another half-millennium. However, modern Buddhism would mount the same challenge, to the idea of an eternal soul, as Buddha did in his time. He simply found no evidence, to support the theory of the soul (atman), in his experience, and Zen practitioners today largely concur. The five aggregates of clinging, are so designated, because they reflect the tendency to cling to a concept of self, one that is arguably cobbled together out of parts. The traditional simile is that of a chariot. When a chariot is disassembled, where is the “chariot?” When the constituent parts of a living being disintegrate, through the process of aging and death, where is the “being?” Zen meditation offers the possibility of seeing through the skandhas, into their essential nature, which is empty, and ever-changing. This marks the end of clinging.

FIVE AGGREGATES & MEDITATION [DIAGRAM 7] The skandhas may also be usefully employed as a conceptual map, of the process of zazen. This is most simply viewed as a linear, sequential developmental model, though there is obvious overlap. The process of zazen can be visualized as moving through the five skandhas in sequence, from the lower or gross level, the body as form; to the higher, fine or subtle level, the mind as consciousness. Physically, the process can be regarded as all-inclusive, sensory adaptation. Mentally, it can be seen as reductio ad absurdum, wherein all dualistic thinking, logical constructs, and understanding of the world, progressively break down. Emotionally, it ranges from the familiar and substantial, at the level of form, to the increasingly strange and ethereal, at the level of consciousness. Without positing the five as progressive stages to enlightenment, we can say that form is transcended by, or absorbed into, sensation; sensation is overtaken by perception; perception and its corollary, conception, become subsidiary to mental formation, underlying impulse; all are finally subsumed under bare consciousness, choiceless awareness, in which there is no subject, no object, no skandhas. But of course the five are interactive, not linear, in their functionality. Each is reflected in, and conditioning of, all the others. But each can be considered separately as well. They perhaps should be imagined as nesting within each other, or mutually overlapping, as in a Venn diagram. The boundaries become even fuzzier, in zazen. Over time, the skandhas come completely unglued. Let’s take them one at a time.

1. Form (rupa): Things Form (rupa) is combined with name (nama) as name and form (namarupa). This points to the inseparability, in human consciousness, of physical experience, of form, and the activity of the mind (manas), in naming experience. The function of intelligence identifies, categorizes, and names experience of the material world, filtered through the senses. After all, even these so-called skandhas under discussion, must be named, to be discussed at all. Otherwise, we would not be able to identify them as such, and so would be prohibited from discussing them. But the experience of reality, or form, in the general sense, necessarily precedes the naming of it. The capacity for experiencing form may arise in the womb, as a primitive kind of consciousness. Naming, of course, would follow at a later time, along with the acquisition of language. Also referred to as corporeality, form is often regarded as the sole physical skandha. The other four are then considered mental in nature. But today, the material world is known to consist of energy commingled with matter in all its states—solid, liquid, gaseous, atomic—as well as various particles in the subatomic realm. Matter is further subdivided into organic and inorganic. Beings are grouped into kingdoms: animal, vegetable, mineral; sentient and insentient, with some yet-to-be-defined boundary- dwellers, such as viruses. At every scale, matter is found to be inseparable from energy, the animating force of the second skandha, sensation. Anyone’s first experience of zazen, the first level of meditation, is primarily in the realm of form. That is, the main focus of attention is on the physical: posture, breath, and physical sensations; as the body adapts to the unfamiliar mode of sitting still. Form is the first plateau of the Zen mountain.

2. Sensation (vedana): Feelings Eventually, in Zen meditation, our experience of form begins to change. Form, as an object of awareness, is naturally subsumed into sensation, through the onset of numbness. Feeling, sensation, is that physical interface where the being engages energetic stimuli from its environment, through the senses. Sensation is transmitted largely through electrical and chemical interactions in the nervous system, from external and internal sources, such as light, sound, heat, pressure, and gravity. Sensation may be regarded as an aggregate boundary, between the physical world, and the sense organs, of sentient beings. Sensation seems gradated, throughout differing levels of sentience, from human beings to earthworms, paralleling the gradation of energy on the electromagnetic spectrum. Sensation may not be considered physical, traditionally, but today’s science would treat it as a physical phenomenon. Feeling is the energetic complement of flesh, just as energy is the complement to matter, in physics. Sensation and form are conjoined, just as are wave and particle. Sensation and form are co-arisen, continually co-arising. They condition each other, as do wave and particle, always and only co-existent. This is an illustration of the absolute inseparability of the aggregates. But it does not reduce the utility of differentiating them, for the sake of clarifying their interface. Zen meditation is sensory practice; sensory learning or, better, unlearning. One can regard the material world—the world outside oneself—scientifically, and dispassionately, as insentient matter and energy. But when it comes to the body, the senses are inseparable from the experience of form. Thus, the senses are the natural starting point, the initial focus, of practice-experience, in Zen meditation. In Zen meditation, the entire sensorium adapts, completely and profoundly. The very idea, and apprehension, of form, becomes indeterminate. Sensations come and go; they are temporary, however extreme. We adapt, becoming numb, on mental and emotional planes, as well as the physical. Form is absorbed into sensation, much as matter is subsumed under energy. The second plateau of Zen Mountain is sensation-only. 3. Perception (samjna):Thoughts Perception, sometimes translated as thought, straddles the boundary of mind and body, mind and the environment. Experience, as perception, can be considered purely mental, perhaps, or as basic awareness, at the merging edge of the mental and physical realms. In addition to perception of physical objects, we can also speak of perception of mental objects, or ideas. Sokei-an, an early Rinzai teacher in America, pointed out that when a person, a dog and a chicken all look at a fire hydrant, only the person sees the red. So, where, exactly, is the red? Red is regarded as a real, but non-existent, dharma (in the sense of a mental construct; that all would agree is not blue, or yellow). The red fire hydrant, however, is considered a real and existent dharma (in the sense of a putative entity or being). If you kick it, you will stub your toe. These two classes of dharma-beings, both real, but not both existent, represent the boundary of mental and physical realms. Both are perceived, as well as conceived. But the fire hydrant can be found, located in spacetime. It occupies what is called a dharma-location or position, whereas red does not. It exists, but has a locus only in the mind. Perception is necessarily, if marginally, different for each human being, and more dramatically so for other sentient beings. Some animals, birds, have tri-color vision similar to humans, and can see a red food seed, for instance, where others can not. When perception is further processed into conception, we might say that it has become only mental: real, but non-existent. This transaction, or transition, transpires in microseconds. So, conception is, naturally, often confused with perception. Percepts are isolated perceptions, in the present moment. Concepts are isolated ideas, from the immediate past. In some circumstances, such as a traumatic memory, a concept may come to supplant a percept. We perceive what we conceive to be reality. This is one meaning of William Blake’s expression, cleansing the doors of perception:

The Doors of Perception is a 1954 book by Aldous Huxley detailing his experiences when taking mescaline. The title comes from William Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell: “If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern.” The influence of conception—learned names, concepts and categories—upon perception, is a major factor closing up the mind, muddying up the picture. Through zazen, and the sensory disorientation it brings about, our perception, and therefore our conception, of reality, is challenged. When clinging to preconception is abandoned, we have the chance of clearly perceiving, for the first time. This is cleansing the doors of perception, and more. It also refreshes our view, and thought. This cleansing is not dependent upon drugs to provide the soap, as did Huxley’s experiment, but it does require some elbow grease. Perception-conception may be thought of as the middle skandha, bridging from the physical dimensions of form and feeling, to those of impulse and consciousness itself. As we become numbed, by the process of adaptation, brought on by sitting still, the focus on sensation diminishes; a kind of indiscriminate perception remains. The overt activity of the mind diminishes over time, with repetition of zazen. Predictable forms of thought lose their fascination, and one’s attention turns elsewhere. The overall process can be thought of as one of simplification, moving toward what is called one-pointedness in Zen. We slowly become familiar with, and dispassionate toward, our usual perceptions and conceptions, knee-jerk reactions and opinions. They are supplanted by direct experience, in which everything changes, yet is the same. The third and middle skandha, as a plateau of Zen Mountain, culminates in perception-only, wherein sensation is diminished, and even the activity of conception has abated.

4. Mental Formation (samskara): Impulses Impulse, mental formation, is tied to intent: motives, conscious or not, underlying and operating through perception-conception; and interacting with sensation and form. Samskara also has the connotation of psychological powers of form: Includes the majority of mental activities such as volition, attention, discrimination, joy, happiness, equanimity, resolve, exertion, compulsion, concentration, and so on.

This explains why the fourth aggregate has more translations into English, than any of the others. Words cannot fully capture its meaning. It contains a corollary for all forms of mental activity, which approach infinity in their interrelatedness. In toto, mental formations constitute a heap, a comprehensive hodgepodge, of all motives, impulses and desires, which underlie, and karmically condition, the first three skandhas, as well as being conditioned by them. The fourth aggregate also directly affects, and conditions, the fifth and final aggregate, consciousness. Connected to the conditioning consequences of karma and rebirth, unresolved mental formations, from former lives, are thought to carry over, and to help form, the present consciousness. It is important to note, however, that only circumstances are conditioned by consequences of past karma. Actions are not constrained by past karma. Buddhism does not posit a form of determinism, or fatalism, in which we have no free will. Actions in the present moment can directly effect our future karma. Which is more good news. However, the strength of karmic force can be mitigated only by insight. Sitting in zazen—in the absence of perception, sensation, and form—for some time, the fourth plateau of Zen Mountain becomes formation-only, pure impulse. Eventually, this leads to no-formation: no identifiable motive or desire, beyond even any subliminal formation of mental impulse. It should be noted that the metaphor of a plateau is selected advisedly. A plateau is difficult to reach; and once reached, it stretches before us for some distance, flat as a pancake. Learning to continue sitting, with no sense of progress, no immediate perception of change, is necessary to Zen’s training in patience, and to reaching the mountain peak.

5. Consciousness (vijnana): Awareness Consciousness may be regarded as the most spiritual dimension of being, perhaps. But it cannot, in Buddhism, be divorced from the physical. Consciousness is, conventionally speaking, the highest, or most diaphanous, of the skandhas, and yet the most concrete, as it is how we experience the essence of our personal reality. Form may be regarded as the lowest, most tangible or gross. However, there is no vijnana outside of rupa, no consciousness separate from form. All five aggregates are parts of one whole, and mutually arise from, and define, each other. This is where Buddhism would have a problem with the concept of a disembodied consciousness, as would be required of a soul, or a God, one who is aware of the fall of a sparrow. If there is no separation of God and the sparrow, however, then God may be conscious of its fall, through the sparrow’s own, inner consciousness. If it is One Mind. In Buddhism, we share sentience with all beings, although not qualitatively identical, but gradated, as mentioned above. The fifth and final plateau of meditation, on the model of the aggregates, may be called consciousness-only. In this rarefied awareness, the other four have been fully subsumed, their influence abated, through profound, and complete, sensory adaptation. Sitting without active awareness of form, sensation, perception and mental formation, all that remains is consciousness, per se. But this is not the end state of meditation; there is no such end in Zen. Consciousness is the medium of meditation. In Zen meditation, consciousness contemplates consciousness, through the medium of consciousness. The subject, object and predicate are, all three, just one. Or at least, not-two. But consciousness must, as with the other four aggregates, finally revert to its flip side, becoming no-consciousness. Indeed, an early translation into English of the Heart Sutra contains the line “…until we come to no consciousness also.” This indicates that there is a level of experience, beyond choiceless awareness, that cannot even be considered consciousness. It is its other, complementary side. This does not necessarily mean that we pass out, or lose consciousness in the ordinary sense. It means that each of the skandhas has a yin-yang quality, two sides that are in a sense opposite, without being completely separate from each other. One constitutes our usual awareness, the other is extraordinary. But the two are not actually separate. This is an important point to emphasize. The presentation of the skandhas as linear and progressive may imply that our meditation is, itself, bringing about some kind of change. But the change is only in our apprehension of reality. Meditation changes nothing. The insights that come from meditation allow us to see into the true condition of existence, as it already is. Any such glimpse may only be a peek-in-the-tent, however. Ultimately, as Buddha is said to have stated, there comes a turning about in the inmost consciousness, in which one becomes directly identified with the truth of being. This is the result, not of zazen in the causal sense, but of the changes in our awareness, which zazen brings about. To carry the metaphor further, it is the peak of Zen mountain. We enter upon the fifth, and final, plateau of Zen Mountain, that of not even consciousness-only, the empty circle (J. enso). Of course, we still have to come back down the mountain.

Skandhas & Karma Mental formation, impulse, or desire, is deeply seated in the karmic consciousness of the individual. We might say it is who we think we are; it does constitute the ordinary self. It is connected to memory, and unconscious conditioning, from events in this life, as well. But, according to Buddhism, mental formations are not formed from this life solely, but are connected, as causes and conditions, to past lives, through what is called the storehouse consciousness (alaya-vijnana). This karmic dynamic is not the simplistic cliche that what goes around comes around. Karma does not work as a kind of cosmic abacus, in which good deeds are rewarded, and bad are punished. It is a deeper principle, representing the vehicle by which karmic effects, from our distant past, come to condition the present life, and potentially future lives, depending on our actions in this life. These effects are not judged, or directed, by a god, as punishment or reward for our behavior, but come about by the universal calculus of cause and effect. No one is doing the math. Karma is based on a Sanskrit word that means action. Any act, whether of commission or omission, results in a consequence, immediate, or in the future. The consequences can be negative; they can also be positive; they can even be of a neutral nature. Breathing, for example, is an action, and sustains one’s life as a consequence. Breathing is not inconsequential, however, to the microbes inhaled. Actually, we are not committing the act of breathing, as anyone discovers, when they try to stop. As a child, you may have held your breath in a temper tantrum. What may have happened, is that pretty soon, you passed out, if you refused to breathe for long enough. When unconscious, your body immediately continued breathing, without interference, or necessity, of the conscious will. The body actually does the breathing, just as it does the living. And the body will eventually do the dying. We are merely along for the ride, so to say. Buddhists do not see everything that happens, as accountable in one lifetime. Just as our DNA did not appear, suddenly, out of nowhere, our temperament and other psychic traits did not necessarily arrive with conception, or birth. This is why bad things happen to good people, and vice-versa, according to Buddhism. Everybody’s got some things that they can’t explain, and this idea of karmic effect, over multiple lifetimes, can explain a lot. But it is not an excuse for inaction, or a lack of compassion for others. Using karma to justify ignoring the suffering of others is un-Buddhist. It would be equivalent to Christians’ attributing natural calamities that befall others, such as the earthquakes, wildfires and hurricanes that periodically inflict terrible agony on masses of people, to the vengeful working of God’s will. Vengeance, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. But karma is neutral. It is not a respecter of persons. In Buddhism, paradigms are offered to help us understand suffering, but are meant to be applied critically only to our own suffering, not that of others. The Buddhist ideal of ending suffering, necessarily involves the end of suffering for all, not for yourself alone. Even though they interact karmically, the five skandhas of clinging are seen to be empty, of any substantial, permanent, or self-existent nature. This seems more apparent on the ephemeral level of consciousness, than on that of gross, material form. Matter seems more permanent, more real and existent, than moment-by-moment awareness. It may seem a scary proposition, that this world we know is fundamentally empty. But fear does not logically follow, from the reality. If it is true that existence is empty, it is already true, before we realize it. This discovery should, instead, be deeply liberating, inspiring profound relief. All is empty of substantial self-existence, including suffering, including even karma. Nobody told you this would be easy.

MEDITATION AND BEYOND That Zen is much more than self-centered meditation, cannot be over-emphasized. But many westerners may still harbor common misconceptions, about Buddhism and Zen. For example, you may believe that Zen’s ethical outlook is amoral, or even immoral. Or that it eschews normal family, and community life. Or that Zen is not a path of salvation. But Zen is in no way amoral, or immoral. It teaches that true morality comes from an acceptance, of the existence of suffering, and its inevitable occurrence in our life. It is the attempt to avoid personal suffering, and to blame it on others, that leads to immoral acts, and an amoral outlook. Zen’s very aversion to moralizing, about the behavior of others, may give the false impression, that it adherents do not hold themselves to high standards. Throughout the history of Zen, its worldview dictated varying degrees of disjunction, from the cultural norms of the times. These include renouncing family and fortune, and abandoning conventional relationships to the larger community, e.g. as a householder. However, monks and nuns did not typically estrange themselves from society, but were fully engaged in their role, and functioned as exemplars of the Zen life, free from conventional indulgences and trappings. Monasteries and temples were cultural and educational centers, often providing the main source of training for the young, and higher learning for the older generations. The traditional emphasis on celibacy—the quickest way to extinction of the species—has not been universal, and is certainly not universally characteristic of Zen today, if it ever was. The future of Zen is, instead, in lay practice, as it fully supports the dynamic of family life. However, this does not mean that Zen is not a path to salvation. It is just that it does not posit the salvation of an everlasting soul. What is to be saved in Zen, in Buddhism in general, is all beings. Saved from what, is another question. Certainly not from eternal perdition, damnation in hell. Saved from their own ignorance, perhaps, and to that degree, from unnecessary suffering. This salvation is not the result of intervention, of a savior or God, but the natural result of our own effort, primarily in meditation. While Zen stresses the central role of meditation, in order to come to a thorough understanding of the Buddhist worldview, there is also good reason to thoroughly examine its moral guidelines, and ethical principles, expressed as the Right Conduct side of the Eightfold Path (right speech, action and livelihood), as well as in the Pure and Grave Precepts. Furthermore, we cannot ignore what some scholars refer to as the psychology of Zen, which is based on denial of the ego, and compassion for others. Its premises and practice also stem from intense self-examination on the cushion.

Hopefully, this chapter has helped to clarify some of the main principles of Buddhism, and to set the context for better assimilating the next section, Present. In its four chapters, we will more thoroughly examine the method and techniques of Zen meditation, from which the conceptual teachings arose. Perhaps it will inspire you to initiate, or to continue, your own exploration of this profound practice, in your daily life, and on the cushion. II. PRESENT

There is no logical way to the discovery of these elemental laws. There is only the way of intuition, which is helped by a feeling for the order lying behind the appearance. — Einstein

A. THE MIDDLE WAY

In this section, we will examine certain philosophical, as well as practical, aspects and attitudes, characteristic of Zen Buddhism. Hopefully we will clarify what the seemingly innocuous teaching of the Middle Way comes down to in daily life, relative to the context of related attitudes and concepts, from contemporary science and religion. Remembering our thesis: that Zen offers a middle way, between the cultural and philosophical attitudes, promoted by secular science and theistic religion, not to mention politics. Its simple meditation and balanced lifestyle can help us to meet, head-on, the real and apparent conflicts, in personal and public life today. Anyone, anywhere, anytime, can adopt this method and outlook, without disruption to their daily life. Zen does not conflict with the findings of science, and its philosophy can accommodate all but the most extreme of religious viewpoints. Zen occupies a position, at once spiritual and scientific, poised between the extremes, of materialist reductionism, and religious fanaticism. Again, as a practitioner, I believe it is a gate to a personal revolution, a welcome way out of the conflicting personal, spiritual and political options on offer in the public debate. First, a disclaimer. I am no expert in science, nor am I a scholar of religion. The device I employ, to compare the viewpoints of Zen practitioners, to those of religion and science, utilizes a conventional, rather than technical, definition of either religion or science. I’ve narrowed the scope of religion to conventional Christianity, assuming my own perspective on it to approximate that of the man-on-the-street. It is, after all, ubiquitous in the culture of this country; its adherents, the most embroiled in the debate. Christianity is further skewed to a relatively conservative set of attitudes, for the sake of highlighting differences with Zen, in stark relief. The most aggressive proponents of conservative belief, and opponents of liberal science, come from this branch. This text is, in large part, a response to that fact, and thus, necessarily, paints all Christianity with a broad brush. There are as many kinds of Christians as there are Christians, just as there are as many ways of understanding Buddhism as there are Buddhists. Apologies in advance, to any Christian reader who feels unfairly characterized, by implication. Likewise, Science is used in the generic and general sense, recognizing that no two scientific endeavors are likely to be remotely alike, in today’s specialized environment. Since most representatives of science are disinclined to engage, the debate, we will not belabor their case, as some of the “new atheists” are inclined to do. Less said, the better. Zen is likely less familiar to the typical reader, and so will be explained more fully than science or religion. The idea is to position Zen somewhere in the relative middle, between the polar contrasts. The latter should be regarded as foils, conscripted as handy straight men to set up Zen’s punchlines, which we hope will illuminate Buddhism’s principle of the middle way.

MORE THAN MODERATION The Middle Way, one title of the first sermon attributed to Buddha, marks his point of demarcation from the conventional wisdom of his time. He had found that the prevalent practices, of self-gratification and self-mortification, are not only dead-ends, but can constitute barriers to resolution of the dilemma of existence. His meditation differed from those he had learned, in that it transcended the typical form of subject meditating upon an object, and went far beyond the extreme trance, widely considered to be the highest state achievable through meditation. Zen meditation bridges the ordinary and the miraculous. The middle way is mistakenly reduced to mere moderation in all things, a kind of milquetoast, lackadaisical way of life, avoiding conflict and taking the easy way out. Buddhism’s Middle Way is, rather, an aggressive, active embrace of life, as it really is. In Zen practice, it is regarded as the most extreme position, exactly centered between the opposites, in every dimension of daily life: the razor’s edge.

EXPEDIENT MEANS To profile the Middle Way in an expedient manner, Zen is positioned between Christianity and Science. The chart compares and contrasts eight dimensions, as characteristic of each field of endeavor. (Science is capitalized, on a par with Zen and Christianity.) The terms, selected to label traits assigned to each field, may not be those an expert, or you, the reader, might choose. They are not meant to represent scholarly perspectives on the fields, nor are they meant to be judgmental. They are selected from the vernacular, to illustrate common assumptions about differences, between science and religion. On the left, the eight dimensions are listed under Field:

Field: Science Zen Christianity 1. Question: How What Why 2. Problem: Chaos Ignorance Sin 3. Reliance: Perseverance Doubt Faith 4. Trust: Verification Self-Nature Savior 5. Method: Experimentation Meditation Prayer 6. Truth: Evidence Identification Belief 7. Goal: Knowledge Vow Salvation 8. Conclusion: Evolution Co-Arising Creation

Under the three field headings, Christianity, Zen and Science, the vertical columns list eight attributes, common to each of the three fields. Horizontal ranks of correlated terms illustrate salient differences between the fields: the Question asked; the Problem addressed; the focus of Reliance; the object of Trust; the Method employed; the Truth claimed; the Goal of the endeavor; and the Conclusion reached. Of course, for another purpose, we might list other attributes, of equal or greater weight. Other terms may be found to be more fitting, depending on personal perspective. The first rank labels three kinds of question asked, and answered, in each field: How, What, or Why. Next, the fundamental problem identified by each: Chaos, Ignorance, and Sin. Third, attitudes relied upon: Perseverance, Doubt and Faith. The fourth lists objects of veneration and trust: Verification, Self-Nature, and Savior. Next, distinct methods: Experimentation, Meditation and Prayer. Evidence, Identification, and Belief compare the differing kinds of truth, that each claims. Then, the ostensible goals: Knowledge, Vow, and Salvation. Finally, conclusions arrived at in each field: Evolution, Co-arising, and Creation; the first and last being the antipodes of the current debate under discussion. It is important that we come at this discussion, from a discipline of using language, rather than being used by it. Please accept these terms, for the time being, however inadequate, for the sake of argument, rather than becoming bogged down in semantics. Much of the terminology on the Christian end is emotionally loaded; souls are at stake, after all. Science deals with a different threat level; its attitudes can also trigger emotions. Let’s take a closer look at each rank. It seems normative, to first clarify the implicit questions asked, in order to reveal the kinds of answers sought, within each field. We will consider the contextual attitudes of Science first; of Christianity second; and finally, those of Zen; clarification of which, remember, is the point of this exercise.

1. QUESTION: How? Why? What? Granting that these three kinds of questions overlap in reality, still it seems that the kind of questions posed by religion in general, here represented by Christianity, versus those posed by Science, can be represented as lying at distinct, if not opposite, poles. Religion seeks to answer the why questions, whereas Science addresses the how of things. When any group or individual, scientific or religious, claims to have the answer to both the how and the why of all things, we are witness to the ultimate in arrogance-cum-ignorance. Some pronouncements, on both sides, approach this level of hubris.

How Science asks questions about how things work (or how they don’t work), and develops hypotheses, designs experiments to test them, then produces and documents the evidence. When and if verified by third parties, through replication of measurable results, hypotheses become theories. Theories deal with how things exist, how they work, and how things interact. Buttressed with sufficient evidence over time, theories rise to the level of physical laws. This is the scientific nut, in the shell of creation. Colloquially, one might ask scientists why something is the way it is, and their explanation may seem to answer that question. But on closer analysis, it is actually about how something is the way it is, not why it is so. No matter how complete and thorough a scientific explanation, up to and including the Holy Grail of Science, the Unified Field Theory or Theory of Everything, Science can never really answer the why question. When its representatives appear to do so, if is often attributable to the less- than-scientific use of language. When they claim to do so, it is pride. We all know what that goes before. When Science elevates its understanding of how the universe works (or at least that part of it under the microscope) to the level of why it is so, it enters upon the slippery slope of the Religion of Science.

Why Speaking broadly, and simplifying mercilessly, Religion seeks to understand the meaning of existence, and humankind’s place in the creation, while Science seeks to understand the way things work in the universe. Religion asks the cosmic question, Why? as in “Why me, Lord?”—Job’s lament —and struggles with delivering credible answers, such as the purpose of creation itself. Or, why it is that some people suffer so terribly, when others do not? When religion replaces the why question with who, it becomes theism, or deism. Theistic religions usually project the image of God, based on an image of humanity. Humans are made in God’s image, but fall far short of the ideal, the perfection, of God. People and the world are imperfect, whereas God is perfection itself. Buddhism supports the former, and does not debate the latter. Buddha is not a synonym for God, or a Christ. Belief that humans are formed in the image of God is opposed to humanism, the secular view that places humans at the center of things. Humans reflecting God’s image is, ironically, a logical if wishful extension, a kind of inversion, of humanism. It projects anthropomorphism onto the creator, as well as an anthropocentric view, on his creation. Both images, of perfection and imperfection, are opposite sides of the same coinage. Such attributes, idealized as godly, may reflect deeply human aspirations, writ large: feared imperfections, imagined perfections, in, and of, the eye of the beholder. When the why of Christianity arrogates to itself the how of Science, we have “God moves in mysterious ways.” Explanations of the world’s workings, dressed up as manifestations of God’s will. This is the hallmark of the Science of Religion.

What The central question in Zen is neither why nor how, but What? Why questions are considered speculative, and Buddhists are admonished not to overindulge in them. How questions are of interest on a practical level, as in the application of skillful means to the practice and clarification of Zen, the development of best practices and methods. The what question falls somewhere between why and how: it points to concrete reality. A famous Zen master asked a visiting monk, “What thing is it (that comes)?” This what is the actual reality, also referred to as that, such, it, or thus (J. inmo). It points to the ineffable. But even if ineffable truth is experienced directly, the why of it cannot be explained, and the how of it remains a deep mystery. What is the concrete reality, the moon itself. The word, “moon,” is the finger pointing at it, that.

2. PROBLEM: Chaos; Sin; Ignorance In the Western educational system, and in training for most professions, one is taught to look at life situations as problems, and to develop solutions for the problem, as defined. Problem-solving is basic to—and the standard method of measuring—intelligence. The first step, in the process of arriving at a solution, is to thoroughly examine the problem definition, often leading to a redefinition of the identified problem, itself. The more comprehensive the definition of the problem, the more comprehensive the solution. When pursued thoroughly, this process often eliminates the initial problem altogether, replacing it with a deeper, broader, or greater one. To illustrate, one might redefine the problem of “designing a better automobile” as “designing an alternative transportation system,” in the process, eliminating the need for automobiles altogether. Perhaps a cogent redefinition, of the problems of chaos, ignorance, and sin, would eliminate the need for conventional solutions, as typically offered by contemporary Religion and Science.

Chaos In Science, the definition of the central problem would vary widely in specifics, but might be generalized as a tendency of nature, and society, toward Chaos, in lieu of preventive or corrective intervention. Science works to anticipate, and develop solutions that, hopefully, prevent, or overcome, the onset of crisis. This is accomplished by developing sufficient knowledge to control threatening elements of the environment, in such areas as the national economy, public health, and military defense. In this regard, Control might be substituted for Knowledge, as the central goal of Science. Knowledge may be interesting in the abstract, but finds its useful application, and necessity, in our need to control nature, including human nature, e.g. recurrent oil spills in coastal waters. Like the Get Smart television series from the 1960s, CONTROL and CHAOS may be seen as the two competing powers of the world, but only of the human world. The scientific imperative is driven by concern for survival, and comfort, in this life. The four horsemen of the apocalypse—disease, famine, pestilence and war—symbolize historical threats to human society, and the long-term survival of the species. Nowadays, it may be more of a herd, than a quartet, and some of the horses hail from Science itself. Science offers solutions to suffering, through medical prowess, and other life- and comfort- enhancing technologies. Which, though neither foolproof, nor permanent, are mostly welcome. Ultimately, mortality itself can be classified as a medical problem, engendering robust movements, promoting longevity, even aspiring to immortality. Extreme methods of prolonging life, which science is increasingly able, and prone, to provide, are less than welcome, in many cases. Witness the infamous case of Terry Schiavo, where political and right-to-life forces made a spectacle of themselves, grandstanding under pretext of prolonging life, of a person in a profound vegetative state. It should be noted, that chaos is a judgment call, definitely in the eye of the beholder. We can reasonably assert that what is perceived, and conceived, as chaos, can be regarded as a higher, or more subtle, class of order. That is, the sublimely complex order of the universe—if you will, of God’s mind —may appear as chaos to a mere mortal. Human beings may be able to recognize only those levels of order, that are built into the human nervous system. If so, in order to see chaos as order, one would have to be chaos.

Sin The definition of the basic problem of human existence, or what is wrong in life, would predictably be quite different, from the point of view of Christianity, as compared to that of Science, or of Zen. In Christianity, it is sometimes expressed with phrases such as the fall from grace, or being born into Sin, and the existence of evil, symbolized by Satan. Being denied God’s grace because of a sin committed, namely eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, is a Christian doctrine, describing the fundamental condition of humanity. Salvation comes through repentance, and confession, most crucially, by taking refuge in the Savior. Christians are, reputedly, motivated primarily, by concern for the future of their souls. Yet, many are actively engaged in the world, notably Christian evangelists, and are known for their charitable actions, on behalf of the disadvantaged, all around the world, saving bodies, as well as souls.

Ignorance In Buddhism, the primary problem of existence is defined as Ignorance. The main manifestation of human ignorance, is the unexamined belief in the constructed self. Most of our problems, and those we inflict on the rest of the world, stem from reification of this imputed self, through projection of self-centered bias onto all aspects of our life. Overcoming self-centered clinging, to the false self, is the central problem-solving task set out by Buddhism. Ignorance in Buddhism is not only of the familiar, willful type, developed after birth. One is born into, and owing to, a state of ignorance, not sin. This ignorance is somewhat akin to the Christian view of sin, but without the overlay of guilt, or an external, judging god, and it is not an irretrievable condition of depravity. According to Buddhism, all existence arises out of a kind of primordial ignorance, or not- knowing. This ignorance is innocent, not willful, in that it simply knows no better. Everything arises, abides, changes, and decays in a state of fundamental ignorance. It is not a personal fatal flaw, but a universal condition. In Zen, the problem is not controlling the chaos, of an uncaring universe, or expiating the sins of humankind. These are regarded as givens of existence, and ultimately intractable. The problem to be solved, is alleviating one’s own ignorance. In order to find release from suffering, one must overcome one’s own resistance. Only, and all, human beings, are able to wake up to this realization, to transcend their own ignorance. Willful ignorance, in Zen practice, consists in the rejection and denial of its teachings, such as the four Noble Truths, or the inevitability of karma; and leads inexorably to greater suffering. This kind of ignorance is not innocent, but insidious. The Four Noble Truths comprise Buddhism’s core model of the true conditions of this life: the unavoidable existence, of suffering; its origination, in our own craving; its cessation, only with our abandonment of craving; and our way of living this way in daily life, by following the Noble Eightfold Path. Briefly, this framework for daily practice recommends that we cultivate right wisdom, right conduct, and right discipline. Ignorance of these basic facts of existence, and avoidance of the right way to deal with them, leads to accumulation of karmic consequence, which must be worked through, in this and future lives. The individual state of ignorance, called karmic consciousness, is the fundamental ego-problem, in Buddhism. Ignorance drives the universal, conjoined principles of rebirth and karma, and underlies humankind’s inhumanity.

3. RELIANCE: Perseverance; Faith; Doubt Just as the three classes of questions, discussed above, cannot be completely separated, the attitudes, qualities, or virtues, relied upon by people in their struggles, also cannot be. But whether for a Scientist, Christian, or a Buddhist, they tend to come in pairs, rather than a full set of all three. That is, the combination of faith and perseverance—devoid of doubt—begets a dangerous zealotry; a healthy dose of doubt can have a tempering effect upon the zealot. Doubt plus perseverance —in lieu of faith—can lead to skepticism, begetting the cynic. Doubt and faith, as conventionally understood—absent perseverance—engenders erratic vacillation. We see ample evidence of all three, out-of-balance approaches, in the passing pageantry of public life, today. They are part and parcel, of the attitudes underlying the worst excesses, of the parties to the debate.

Perseverance Reliance on perseverance, or determination, a well-known trait of Science, needs little or no explanation. The scientist perseveres, in spite of inconclusive results, through experiment after experiment. The eureka insight experienced in the theoretical phase, often turns out to be untrue, or incorrect, when tested by experiment. It is forever back to the drawing board, as in most creative endeavors. Someone once said that the difference between a world-class scientist, and a mediocre one, is the ability of the former, to recognize the futility of a line of inquiry, sooner than the latter. Persevering down blind alleys, is not a virtue in Science, nor in Zen, and, one would hope, in Christianity. But perseverance, itself, is not the key determinate of success in Science; rather, it is the choice of experiment. Asking the right questions is crucial to meaningful inquiry, and to developing significant results.

Faith No one can truly understand the deep meaning, that faith has to someone else. Here, the purpose is to characterize faith in its conventional interpretation, as it is used, or misused, in the vernacular. In Christianity, as in most religions, it cannot be separated from belief. Faith and belief are more or less interchangeable. Both terms are synonyms for the religion, or the particular sect, of the person, often expressed as What is your faith? or What do you believe? Implied in this use of faith are specific beliefs, such as faith in the divinity of Christ, in the inerrancy of scripture, or in a personal God and savior. Faith is represented as absolute, rock-solid, unshakeable confidence in the truth of one’s beliefs. Faith is exercised in the face of—in spite of—a complete lack of evidence, in the scientific, as well as the common, sense. Faith of this kind can be held up to the same criticism as belief. That is, that it is lacking any evidence, or logic. The suffering sometimes witnessed by, or visited upon, believers, can contradict and challenge their faith, but this kind of faith leaves no room for doubt. In the cauldron of daily life, one’s faith is tested, leading some to question their faith. When one’s faith is severely tested, it may culminate in crisis, the resolution of which might go either way—a total denunciation of prior beliefs, or an epiphany as to the deeper meaning of faith. Faith is reliable, if it can survive the challenge of suffering sickness, aging and death. Mother Teresa has been the subject of a great deal of attention in the press, after the posthumous publication of her writings revealed a deep and long-term crisis of faith, which she kept to herself while alive. Such crises of faith are certainly understandable, especially in her case, given the unrelenting suffering she witnessed daily in her ministry. Doubt As in Science, asking the right question is important to the practice of Zen. Asking a question is basically an admission that we don’t know the answer. Not knowing the answers is tantamount to Doubt, especially answers to the important questions. It seems contrary to suggest that spiritual practice could rely on doubt. Conventionally, doubt does not feel reliable. But the doubt spoken of in Zen is of a different order. Faith and doubt (and to a lesser degree, perseverance), as they function in Zen, do not fit conventional or Christian definitions. These three terms, expressed as faith, doubt and determination, were introduced in an early American Zen classic as three pillars of Zen practice, by Philip Kapleau, Roshi. He considers them central to the practice of Zen, like the legs of a three-legged stool. Without any one of the three, the stool is unstable. Odd, to regard doubt as essential to stability. In Zen, faith does not exist separately from doubt. Doubt is the emotional content of faith. The greater the doubt one feels, the more one’s faith is tested. Like courage, which is not fearlessness, but the ability to act in the presence of great fear, faith is the ability to persevere, in the face of doubt. There are two basic kinds of doubt in Zen, broadly defined. One is insidious doubt: suspicion of one’s teacher, a lack of trust in the teaching, a sense of personal inadequacy. These doubts are to be set aside, or overcome. Self-doubt, in Zen, is not a sense of personal inadequacy, but an honest skepticism, regarding one’s own understanding and opinions. The second kind of doubt is called great doubt. When self-doubt is nurtured, it grows, eventually subsuming everything in its embrace. The entirety of our existence comes into question, particularly our cherished ideas or beliefs about it. In its full-blown manifestation, it becomes Great Doubt. It is simultaneous with arousing what is called Don’t-know Mind. Tolerance of doubt, of ambiguity, develops patience. This has a halo effect in daily life, which is characterized by ambiguous situations. Patience, developed on the cushion, grows as well, allowing one to practice patience with others. The ability to live with doubt—to live with a question, rather than craving an answer—becomes a skillful means, for coping with everyday stress.

4. TRUST: Verification; Savior; Self-Nature Trust differs from reliance in that it is something invested, and so can be betrayed. Sometimes trust is misplaced, in the person representing Science, Christianity, or Zen: be it mentor, priest or minister, master or teacher. Such persons are fallible human beings. Trust—and its dark side, mistrust—is most often invested in the motivations of another person, or group. They may harbor a hidden agenda, which is where most of the distrust, in the current debate, lies. We may not even trust ourselves, in certain situations. Usually, we do not parse our sense of distrust; it is often a vague, indistinct intuition. But there are distinct traits, other than motive, that we can trust in others. These include their judgment, their competency, commitment, their honesty. For example, someone’s level of commitment and honesty may be unquestionable, but their competency, or judgment, may not be. Or vice-versa. In the three fields under consideration: Science, Christianity, and Zen; trust is actually placed in something that is not another person. In Science, trust is vested in impersonal proof, in empirical method; in Christianity trust is invested in a spiritual savior; in Zen, it is in one’s own, original nature, or true self. However, none of these forms of trust can be, completely, separated from trust in others; whether the scientific peer community, clergy, or the teacher-student relationship, in Zen.

Verification The expression “Trust but verify” has become a cliché in international politics, thanks partly to Ronald Reagan, who quoted it frequently in negotiations with the Soviets. In Science, there is no trust without verification. Independent verification by third parties is the ultimate proof, the taste of the pudding. In Science, a theory is proven, when verified by others, through third-party evidence. Verification in Buddhism comes, instead, from first-person evidence. Thus, it requires a trusting nature, to believe its evidence.

Savior In Christianity, and theism in general, it appears that complete trust is vested in a just, merciful and loving God, through his son, prophet, or messenger. But the God of the Bible can be seen as jealous, avenging, and angry, not to be trusted so much as feared. The faithful have need for intercession, through a figure that has some sympathy for the human plight. Jesus Christ, the only begotten son of God, is trusted as one’s personal savior. Christ can be called upon through prayer, and must be embraced, as the sole way to salvation. In theism, trust in salvation by God is verified if, after we die, our soul is saved, and dwells in the presence of God. This, of course, cannot be known beforehand, though born-again Christians might argue the point. Certain saints, such as Mother Mary, and soon, John Paul, can also intercede, on behalf of the individual soul. It should be mentioned that in Buddhism, Jesus is recognized as a bodhisattva, an enlightening being, one who “provides active help, is ready to take upon [herself or] himself, the suffering of all other beings, and to transfer…karmic merit to other beings.” The historical Buddha is likewise regarded as a bodhisattva, prior to his great awakening. But in Buddhism, the Buddha is not generally conceived as a deity, or a spiritual being, who can and will intercede, on one’s behalf. We have to make the effort ourselves, to awaken to our own buddha nature. The aid of the buddhas and bodhisattvas comes through our own being, as this very body is the body of buddha.

Self-Nature It may seem contradictory that in Zen, we would place trust in the self, when the very reality of this self, is challenged by Buddhism. Here, the term is used in the special sense of the true self, or buddha-nature, not the conventional, or constructed, self. This is the “self that is not others,” the self that can do what others can not; the only self that can practice secret virtue, those selfless actions that no one else witnesses. Or, also, secret sin. The self is clearly not highly trusted in Christianity, unless, of course, it is born again. All are sinners, in need of redemption. Unleash the self, and all hell breaks loose. Similarly, Western Science regards the self with suspicion, from the Frankenstein’s monster, or Mr. Hyde, at one extreme of science fiction; to the nuclear weapons of mass destruction at the other, unfortunately not a fictional fantasy. More scientifically, embodying the potential for nearly 500 mental disorders now diagnosed by psychiatry, this so-called self is a potential threat. Science seems to also fear the unfettered self, at least as much as does Christianity. In Zen, however, the highest degree of trust is invested in the self, that is, the original self- nature. Perhaps we should label it the Self. Not the constructed self of psychology. And not the self brought fourth, through grace or redemption, by a third, outside party: God, a cosmic Buddha, the historical Buddha, one’s teacher, priest, or scripture. Instead, we are encouraged to trust our own, innate buddha-nature, and our ability to awaken to it. Buddhists consider this the birthright of human beings. This may sound like an egocentric view, but it is actually the opposite of ego. In Buddhism, there is the imputed self, made up of physical, mental and emotional attributes we identify as I—me—mine. The social self consists in its extensions to family, loved ones, friends and familiars; even sports teams, cities and nation-states, our larger community. But the original self is not limited to the familiar and friendly, those who are like me. The original self has no other in it. Rather, it is not-two. In Zen, it is said that we must die on the cushion. The self that we conceive does not survive Zen meditation, at its furthest reach. So, what is experienced in Zen meditation may not conform to beliefs, that Christians may expect to have confirmed, such as the validity, the reality, of the soul. Liberation may not appear as paradise, as predicted by scripture. What we think it means to be saved, or born again, for example, may have to be revised, to accord with experience. In this sense, anyone’s faith may be challenged by direct experience in meditation. And the experience that a scientific pragmatist experiences in zazen may not be verifiable, in accordance with the strict requirements of Science. Zen’s verification of its truth lies somewhere between that of Christianity and Science. It is based on first-party evidence, gained through direct experience, but is not, and is not based upon, a belief. Thus, it is akin to Christianity’s salvation, but experienced in this life, rather than the life after death, in another place called heaven. Yet, the authenticity of insight can be verified, by an experienced Zen teacher. This is known as transmission from Mind to mind, or coming to accord. Nothing, actually, is literally transmitted from teacher to student, of course. The teacher is, already, fully at home in this Mind, and the student enters into the same Mind, with the help of a transmitted teacher. It is awakening to one’s true, self-nature, which is not separable from others. The self that one awakens to, in Zen meditation, is known as buddha, meaning awake. The true, awakened self, can be trusted completely.

5. METHOD: Experimentation; Prayer; Meditation Methods, it goes without saying, must be employed, if they are to be effective; and discarded, if they prove to be ineffective. Any method can be misused, or misconstrued, in any discipline. Method is, importantly, one thing that can be taught; but only to the degree that the student diligently pursues it. The insight that it leads to cannot be taught. It can only be learned. This distinction is especially apropos to the study of the self.

Experimentation Scientific endeavor is virtually inseparable from method. The development of a theory may be considered the product of methodical thinking. The rigor, with which the empiric method is applied, is the determining factor in the proof. The method of discovery and verification, in Science, is widely assumed to be a highly disciplined process, experimental in nature, and thus, intimidating to the uninitiated. Experimentation includes phases of both theory and observation, and is popularly conceived as a semi-mystical, mental activity, e.g. Einstein’s famous thought experiments. Verification, however, requires that one do the math, which is where most would-be geniuses meet their waterloo. Legal charges, associated with scandals, in science, usually revolve around less- than-rigorous method—omissions or errors of method or math—or at worst, outright fraud, committed by intentionally distorting findings. Verification often requires a bench-test of a theory’s predictions. But discoveries are also made in the laboratory, in the form of happy accidents, and serendipitous surprises, sometimes unrelated to the original goals of the experiment. Ironically, but predictably, recent scientific theories are becoming less accessible to testing in the real world, owing to their high-energy requirements, and the physical limitations of technology. This leads some to speculate, that we are approaching the end of knowledge, or of the practical, applicable side of science as we know it. Experimentation, at its best, bridges physical, mental, and, perhaps, emotional worlds.

Prayer Method may seem too impersonal a term, to apply to something as personal as religion. But prayer is a method, the contact, through which a Christian communes with God. Prayer has been likened to asking God questions, meditation to listening to the answers. Contemplative traditions, in many religions, honor the validity of spiritual intercourse with a higher power, sometimes known as centering prayer. From a pamphlet at a major university’s interfaith counseling center, herewith a description of the method of centering prayer:

“Pause a while and know that I am God…” (Ps. 46:10) • Sit quietly, comfortable and relaxed. • Rest within your longing and desire for God. • Move to the center of your deepest self. This movement can be facilitated by imagining yourself slowly descending in an elevator, or walking down flights of stairs, or descending a mountain, or going down into the water, as in a deep pool. • In the stillness, become aware of God’s presence; peacefully absorb God’s love.

This amounts to a form of guided meditation, where the instructions are suggestive, visualization metaphors, and based on a preconception of the existence of God, which is to be expected. Prayer, at its best, we might suggest, would be direct communion with God, without the intermediary of conscious prayer. The method of prayer, even our faith, may end up being discarded, particularly if prayers do not meet expectations.

Meditation A Zen Master said that “Zen meditation is the closest thing to prayer that the East has to offer the West.” Unlike some forms of religious meditation, Zen’s meditation is not guided, not rumination, mulling over scripture or prayer, in our mind. The association, of Zen meditation with prayer, does not indicate that our attention is directed to a deity. In zazen, what has been called choiceless awareness is, finally, not even thinking, in the form of verbal thoughts. So, prayer, in the context of Zen meditation, is perhaps best understood as a degree of earnestness. The word pray is sometimes used in the transfer of merit after reciting a sutra: “We pray that this merit extend universally to all.” This meaning of pray is now archaic, as in prithee—I pray thee, please let it be, whether appealing to a god or pleading with one’s overlord. It reflects a sincere and heartfelt wish, more a sense of yearning, for all beings to be happy, than a specific wish that can be clearly articulated. Zen meditation is thus a religious, or perhaps better, spiritual, practice. But it is also considered to be scientific, in its methodical analysis of findings. Zazen is the central method in Zen, and, like math, as a central method in Science, can be intimidating to a novice. Zazen takes priority over scripture, devotion, ritual, or any other activity associated with Buddhism. We depend upon meditation, certainly more than scripture, or even our own teacher. Zen, and its meditation, is the ultimate in do-it- yourself. Each time we sit in zazen, we enter the laboratory, and conduct the experiment, once again. Because we are different each time—everything has changed since the last time, however subtly—it is never the same experiment exactly, but the next step in an ongoing process of discovery. Method in Zen, zazen, is its saving grace. From meditation comes a direct understanding of Buddhist truth. A second class of method relates to the teaching of Zen: skillful or expedient means. While its essence cannot be taught, technically, that makes it no different than music, art, or science. “Zazen is not step-by-step meditation,” as Master Dogen admonishes, but it, as well as buddhadharma, can be broken down into steps, or parts, in order that a student may assimilate the many aspects of it in digestible bites. Skillful means encompass the ability, that true teachers have, to help others wake up. As a student, the flexibility of mind to imitate: to follow the teacher’s lead without question; is primary. As a teacher, the flexibility of mind to innovate: to adapt to the conditions and personalities of students; takes precedence. Without this double-sided flexibility, and spontaneity of method, the transmission of dharma from teacher to student would hardly be possible. The great Zen masters were the ones who were able to use the right method at the right time, a turning word or gesture (J. wato), that helped their students to awaken. But they all recommended zazen.

6. TRUTH: Evidence; Belief; Identification Truth is a slippery word. One person’s truth is another’s just a theory, or, even, untruth. The truth of a Christian is often at odds with the truth of Science, and vice-versa. The truth of Buddhism does not contradict the findings of Science. However, there are many points of departure between the truth of Christianity, and the truth of Buddhism. In this regard, Zen Buddhism has a bias toward Science, and thus cannot be considered a religion, in the usual sense, of a faith-based belief system.

Evidence Evidence in the world of Science comes close to the first definition given by the dictionary: “Something that gives a sign or proof of the existence or truth of something, or that helps somebody to come to a particular conclusion.” This sign, or proof, is usually in the form of the replication of results of a particular experiment, or proven out by the mystical language, and logic, of mathematics. Most people have no idea how math actually works, on this level, so it is truly mystical, or at least, mysterious. Where scientific evidence collides with belief, is in the arena of interpretation. Machines, such as computers, or measuring instruments, can usually be depended upon, to faithfully perform the tasks they are designed, and programmed, to do. But the results of any experiment, are subject to that design intent, and pre-programming, as well as the biases, and interpretation, of those conducting it; and so, also subject to human fallibility. Study of the process of scientific experiment, and interpretation of results, finds that scientists may have an unconscious bias, concerning the outcome. They are sometimes incapable of consciously registering, or recognizing, any data that contradicts their bias. Like the contradictory recollections by different witnesses, of the climactic rape scene in the movie Rashomon, reality is filtered by our predilections, biases, and motives. Peer review, in Science, usually provides the corrective for misinterpretation of data, but the peer review process, itself, can also be flawed. Again, it seems that Science does not place much trust in the self, that first-person arbiter of evidence. Instead, it turns to machines, and other scientists, to fact-check, and confirm what is discovered or theorized. For good reason, of course. Dependence on third-party verification is at once the strength, and the weakness, of science. In the direct study of consciousness, it is a difficult, if not impossible, standard, to apply. This may explain the second-class status of the so-called soft sciences, such as psychology, and sociology. A lack of hard evidence renders their findings undependable, as predictors of behavior. Understandable, as they deal with the behavior of contrary human beings, whether of religious, or scientific, bent.

Belief Belief, it seems, substitutes for evidence, in religion. In lieu of scientific evidence, believers wholeheartedly believe that they witness evidence of the existence of God. Belief is surely a product more of nurture, than of nature. We adopt certain beliefs—of parents, peer groups, mentors, and others influential in our lives. Over decades, over centuries, of recorded and received wisdom, beliefs that at one time, may have originated from direct experience, become codified and filtered through cultural evolution, and transmitted to future generations as sacred scripture, holy writ. They become precepts, attitudes and truths held prior to the experience, of the present moment. They are no longer based upon one’s direct spiritual experience, and may, indeed, even play a central role in inhibiting, or even prohibiting, such direct experience. Revelatory epiphany falls into disfavor, especially if it is deemed contradictory to scripture. This kind of spiritual insight has often been derogated as hallucination, heresy, insanity, or the work of the devil. Charismatic sects seem to value direct experience, and some evangels are displaying a revival of interest in meditation and chanting, practices traditional to Buddhism. And the long, and deep, strain of contemplative tradition in Western religion, is not to be disregarded. But, by and large, the wisdom of religion, as exemplified by contemporary American Christianity, is largely of the received, prepackaged variety.

Identification A Master defined the truth of Zen as something “round and rolling, slippery and slick.” No sooner does it seem to be in our grasp, than it pops out like a wet bar of soap. Buddhism’s truth is like that. What is termed identification is experiential, not conceptual. It means that we come to experience the truth of the self, through the self. In doing so, we become identified with the truth that is beyond bifurcation, into self and other. This is not a belief, but a description of reality, from those who have been there. Belief, in Buddhism, operates on a less exalted, more pedestrian plane, than in Christianity and other religions. Buddhist beliefs are not so much religious, as common-sense conclusions. For example, we believe that all human beings have the potential to realize their inherent Buddha nature. This can be characterized as a Buddhist belief, or tenet. It seems apparent, self-evident, like the truths in the Declaration of Independence. The Buddhist reverence for ancestral lineage, all the way back to Buddha, may be conventionally regarded as a belief, as well. Buddhists believe that their forefathers were not charlatans, but sincere and genuine transmitters of the ontological truth. Buddhism does share a tenet with Christianity, as well as with Science, that humankind has stewardship over the planet. But by default, rather than divine providence. For Buddhists, with this awesome authority, comes great responsibility. From the present actions, of humankind, can come unintended consequences. Karma, the future consequences of present actions, may seem to be just another belief of Buddhism. But it is not an easy one to refute, especially in the context of the future consequences of humankind’s present actions. Those consequences seem increasingly immediate. But a belief, in and of itself, no matter how deeply felt, does not constitute proof of the truth in Zen, just as it has no place in Science. Evidence, in Zen, does not consist of the external, measurable, and comparable data of Science. However, like evidence found in the laboratory, Zen experience is subject to discussion with, and comparison to, the experience of peers, especially of the teacher. Nor is evidence, in Zen, a perception, or conception. Unlike the supposedly undeniable traces of a creator God, that proponents of intelligent design, impute to the irreducible complexity found in nature. However, like the claims of evidence, that are the basis of the ID argument, evidence of insight in Zen has a deeply spiritual meaning. Identification with the truth, as a distinct way of knowing reality—and one’s place in it—is the kind of truth that Buddha testified to experiencing. He also declaimed this kind of truth as superior to unverifiable belief, as in Christianity; equally superior to the kind of truths that are verifiable by a third party, as in Science. This identification of the self, with the ultimate truth, is an experience beyond intellect, or concept. That it does not fit the categories of belief, or evidence, as defined by religion or science, respectively, does not mean that it is not real. Thus it can be verified, only in one’s own experience. It requires a deep trust in one’s self-nature.

7. GOAL: Knowledge; Salvation; Vow Defining the overall goals of Christianity, or Science, is probably where the most violent disagreement arises, even among peers, including members of the same church, or scientific specialty. Goal definition is probably the area of greatest lack of common ground, between opponents. The goals of Science are represented as antithetical to those of Christianity, and vice-versa. Dedicated proponents, on either end, tend to be defensive about their personal goals. Or at best, not very forthcoming, and dismissive of their opponents’ agenda. Most would probably agree that, never the twain shall meet, when it comes to the objectives of Science, and of Christian religion. The terms, salvation for religion, and knowledge for science, may not be the most apropos. They are admittedly gross oversimplifications, but for our purposes, they will have to do.

Knowledge The goal of science is not fully, or adequately, expressed as the acquisition of knowledge. Knowledge can be classified on many levels, from the mundane to the sublime. The goal would also have to include the application of that knowledge. Most applications, of scientific knowledge, have the goal of control. Greater control over our circumstances, the prediction and avoidance of calamity, et cetera. Ominously, control over other beings. Research in the scientific realm is usually not pure—for the pursuit of knowledge alone— though knowledge is a prerequisite, for its many specific goals. Knowledge usually must be applied, to have any value. As a goal, knowledge may be better expressed as the antidote, to the fundamental problem of science, defined as chaos. Knowledge can be applied to controlling the physical world, controlling outcomes, even to control the world, through geo-political and military means. A standout example is the Manhattan Project, which developed an application of Einstein’s discovered knowledge, one that he did not foresee, and vigorously opposed. But that genie was out of the bottle. Most of the benefits of modern life, those that differentiate our lives from, say, conditions during the lifetime of Buddha, of Zen’s Asian ancestors, or those of Christ and his followers, derive from science. The now-ubiquitous inventions, used to enhance and control daily life, include countless energy-slaves, as Buckminster Fuller referred to them. An energy-slave is a unit-measure of service, that used to exist in the form of a human, similar to the now-quaint notion of horsepower. Energy slaves are now, mostly, in the form of machines, and electronic devices. They are slaves, in that they are at our beck-and-call, and have no choice but to serve. In the form of smart machines (e.g. computer-assisted devices), they are too numerous to count, and multiplying apace. Ironically, people can become enslaved to them, as well.

Salvation The most common goal of religion may be expressed as some form of salvation. This, of course, does not simply consist in the soul going to heaven, the popular interpretation in Christianity. Religion holds out an aspiration to something ineffable, a higher and nobler truth, capable of raising its adherents above the muck and mire, of baser motives and desires. The last words of Buddha are said to have included the admonition to work out our own salvation. Religion, including Christianity, generally holds the individual responsible, though dispensations, and absolutions, are sometimes offered, for a price.

Vow In the ancient Zen Buddhist tradition, and possibly in some today, a monk or nun is allowed seven basic possessions: a few garments, a begging bowl, hat, sandals. That’s about it. Today, controlling possessions, rather than being controlled by them, has become a central issue, in affluent personal and social life. As circumstances change, we gain and lose possessions, spending a great amount of time in tending to them, sorting and storing, evaluating, and disposing of them. Happiness, in the Western culture, tends to be connected to, even dependent upon, our relationship to possessions, as well as other material circumstances. In Zen, however, happiness is not dependent upon the vicissitudes of fortune, nor on the material wealth we may accumulate. In Zen, control means self-control. To be born, is to be born into a situation we do not control, and can not really control, in any absolute sense. Actions have consequences, and we can control our own actions, to a degree. But the ongoing action of existence itself, is something we can mostly witness, as an inexorable progress of aging, sickness and death. Knowledge can help, in a circumstantial sense, to lessen the impact of our basic lack of control. But it is cold comfort, in the long run. The basic vow of Buddhism is to save all others before saving oneself, called the bodhisattva vow. This raises several questions: Save others from what? How many are there, all told? How long is it going to take? Where does one begin? These questions make this vow seem literally impossible. Zen Buddhism may be said to be altruistic, but the goals of Zen have nothing to do with changing the world, in the material sense, other than promoting peace, for example. The tactical goals of Zen are, instead, concerned with relieving basic ignorance. The transformation, naturally, begins at home. In Zen, we focuses first on our own heart and mind, only then turning toward fellow human beings, not the other way around. This is how Zen can seem to be self-centered. But by changing ourselves, we become the working model for change in the world, and may even become an example to others. Humans cause all the trouble in the world, after all, primarily through our own ignorance. Of course, natural disasters, as well as the viciousness of predators of the animal kingdom— trouble not directly caused by humans—are not warm and fuzzy realities. But they pale, in comparison with what humans do to themselves, and to others, often in the name of religion ,or science. And these crusades are often rationalized, based on causes that turn out to be fig-leaves, covering naked self- interest. This is the real-world context of the Buddhist vow, to save all others before oneself. It may be an oversimplification, to subsume the many goals of Buddhism under one vow. But the Bodhisattva vow, fully understood and embraced, encompasses all others goals. Living a life based on vow, is different from a life based on belief; or in pursuit of knowledge, and its application to material comfort, or to the avoidance of suffering. Again, Buddhism does not teach the avoidance of suffering, quite the opposite. Suffering is built-in. To take the Buddhist vow seriously, is to meet suffering head-on.

8. CONCLUSION: Evolution; Creation; Co-arising To speak of arriving at a conclusion, especially in the fields of Science and Christianity, seems inherently self-contradictory. One is reminded of the joke about economists: if all the economists in the world lie head-to-toe, they will still not come to a conclusion. Any conclusions arrived at by Christians, as compared to those of Scientists, are necessarily going to be very different, given the vastly different premises, going in. Their premises, while divergent, are in both cases, based on entrenched attitudes—a mixture of personal belief, and impersonal evidence. Again, belief, and evidence, are defined differently, in each area. Difference trumps sameness, making common conclusions unlikely-to-impossible. There are different degrees of conclusiveness, as well. Creation is usually presented as totally conclusive. Evolution is open to revision, if and when evidence of a contradictory nature arises. A theory is less a final conclusion, than an operative framework, pro-tem. Buddhism’s co-arising, as will be seen, embraces ambiguity to a degree that renders it inconclusive, in its basic formulation. It is, however, a conclusion: that reality itself is, inherently, inconclusive.

Evolution The theory of evolution consists of a set of discernible patterns, one of many that Science has discerned in this world. It is illustrative of mutually-conditioning, ever-changing, ongoing creation. Darwin, the identified devil of the creationism movement, is said to have embarked on his journey, precisely to prove the existence of, or to reveal the mind of, God. By eliciting irrefutable evidence, for a creator behind creation, he would have essentially confirmed the ID argument. Ironically, evolution is a scientific achievement that arose out of a religious, even theistic, impulse. Back in the days when boundary lines, between the fields, had not yet ossified.

Creation Creation is a conclusion that Christians, and other theistic religions, have come to, following from religious belief. Belief in a creator God dictates that existence is, by definition, a creation. Concluding that existence is, itself, evidence of a creator, however, is logically questionable, if not entirely circular. Nonetheless, no one can deny that, in a colloquial sense, the universe is a creation. It is creating, or is being created, and recreated, moment-by-moment.

Co-Arising Creation is not even debated, let alone denied, or asserted, in Zen. It would find its place among those cosmic questions that Buddha is said to have refused to answer, or debate. He considered such speculation to be largely irrelevant, to the problems of the immediate human condition, or to their resolution. The more theoretical musings of science would fall under this same category, of philosophy. Including the Big Bang. Nor is evolution up for debate, insofar as far as Zen is concerned, if for opposite reasons. Like many of the tenets of Buddhism, it seems self-evident, when we look at the overwhelming evidence, that evolution is a given, in nature. However irrelevant to the pragmatic purposes of Zen, nonetheless it may, as a theory, offer a model for evolution of mind. Buddha’s insight is regarded the highest, or ultimate, peak experience, in that evolution, to date. The epiphany of Jesus, in Christianity, is not of the same order. In any case, neither creation, nor evolution, can be posited as a linear, one-directional cause- and-effect process. In the context of the Buddhist theory, of how things got to be the way they are, creation and evolution are dual dynamics of Interdependent Origination. It seems clear, that what we call existence, is being continually created, and re-created. What exists in one instance of spacetime is not the same in the next, nor is it completely separate from the prior instance. This is the “Instantaneous Theory of the Universe,” touched on by Master Dogen, in Establishment of the Bodhi Mind, in the main collection of his teachings, the Shobogenzo. According to this theory, the entire universe is changed instantaneously, moment by moment, though it appears, to the human being, to be unchanged. This moment (ksana) is not the moment we ordinarily conceive, as a fraction of a second. It is, instead, the briefest unit of time, too quick to grasp. The frequency of human perception does not match the refresh-rate of reality, much as some cats cannot see the moving image on TV. Where we see sameness, there is difference. But it is a subtle difference, “A silver bowl filled with snow; a heron hidden in the moon; taken as similar they are not the same; not distinguished their places are known.” Here, for Buddhism, there is no conflict between creation, and evolution. And intelligence is certainly part of the mix. Creation is evolving, and evolution is creating. Evolution may be regarded as a pattern of universal intelligence, in the act of creation. This may be conflated with God, or not, in any one observer’s mind. Our opinions, or beliefs, do not change the basic reality. Buddhism’s conclusion, Interdependent Origination, includes built-in ambiguity. It is counter- intuitive, as it does not synch with linear cause-and-effect, a given in Western logic. The term interdependent is used to distinguish it from dependent origination, a more linear interpretation of causality. Interdependent origination is not a theory of the first moment of creation, like the Big Bang. Nor does it posit a creator behind the scenes, directing the course of change. But according to this theory, existence is no accident. The closest to a scientific definition of an accident may be that coined by Ambrose Bierce in The Devil’s Dictionary: “An inevitable occurrence due to the action of immutable natural laws.” So much for random mutation. Interdependent origination is a description of process, akin to the theory of evolution, but not antithetical to the idea of intent. Conceptually speaking, the primordial intent is continually manifested, in creation mode, in the interaction, and mutual conditioning, of all forces. The origination process that Buddhism articulates, is not random mindlessness, but a basic description of the way creation works. This is not, simply, a more complete description of causality, in non-linear form, though the model is sometimes called the Chain of Causation. It is an inter-linkage (thus the term chain) of mutually conditioning components, that bring about change in each other, through interacting. This applies on all scales, throughout the universe, from the micro-simple to the macro-complex. Each link connects to, and incorporates, the others, like hyperlinks in computer text. Briefly reviewing the traditional sequence of links in the chain, they are usually presented as Ignorance, leading to, and conditioning, Impulse, or desire; then Consciousness; Name and Form; the Six Senses; Contact; Sensation; then Craving; Clinging; Becoming; and then Birth, Aging and Death. These do not begin at birth, or even at conception, and they do not end with death, but continue into the future life, conditioning the process of rebirth (see Basics of Buddhism). Suffice it to say that the chain models a detailed analysis, of how things come to be the way they are, a conclusive overview of the identifiable causes, and conditions, impelling the emergence of all humans, and all other sentient beings. In this model, all causes and conditions are in flux. Entities and attributes, that can be deduced from instantiations of existence, have no self-existence, apart from their context. They are mutually conditioning, more than, simply, mutual causes. Cause cannot be separated from effect. The soil in the garden does not cause the seed to sprout, but is a necessary condition, as are the rain and sunshine. The seed itself does not cause itself to sprout, and without the necessary conditions, or in adverse conditions, it will not. Ancient seeds, thousands of years old, have been discovered, preserved by their lack of contact with moisture and other conditions. When planted, they still sprout, after millennia. The principle of mutual arising applies to the conditions of human existence, as well as to all sentient beings, and the insentient universe as well. It is not limited to humanity, but human beings are subject to it. Awakening to its reality is the beginning of enlightenment. The entire chain, then, is interdependently linked to spiritual awakening. Thus, Buddhism’s conclusion, about the origin of existence, is based on evidence, though not necessarily of a kind that a scientist might acknowledge. A deeply religious person may see these teachings as just another set of beliefs. As such, Interdependent Origination then becomes competitive, with their own religious convictions. Taken as such, it is likely to prompt the same visceral reaction as evolution, and to be derogated, as just a theory. This is a defensive gambit, on the part of the Christian right, designed to render scientific evidence, or even first-person epiphany, no more convincing than their beliefs, based on scripture, but touted as theories as valid as those of science. But there is no reason to be defensive about the teachings of Buddhism, whether one is a hard- eyed skeptic, or a rapturous believer. Buddhism simply points our attention to reality; it is not a concept, or theory, about reality.

Whether or not a conclusion can be drawn, to this chapter, it is hoped that the discussion opens up new ways of seeing the debate, offering workable alternatives to the attitudes at the polar extremes. Religion is not necessarily irrational, and science is not necessarily anti-spiritual. This does not guarantee, however, that the proponents of religion, or science, are not themselves irrational; nor that their agendas, overt and covert, are necessarily spiritual, or even benevolent, in their intent. (Quotes to come)

B. WHAT IS ZEN

In this chapter, we will take up the question of what Zen is, touching briefly on its history. More relevantly, we will explore what Zen is in our time and place, emphasizing the larger, more general effects of Zen practice on daily life. On a deeper level, what is called the effect of Zen, does not translate well into conventional language. Owing to the holistic nature of Zen practice, it is not really possible to separate its effects from its process. Certain of Zen meditation’s effects are rather immediate, but ultimately the practice comes to alter one’s daily life and worldview. Implicitly, in a good way. The underlying thesis of this text bears repetition. It is that Zen can provide a middle way, out of the helplessness we feel, the analysis-paralysis of over-thinking, and the self-defeating nature of our self-serving consumption, based on craving. In order to fully realize this, we must make the transition from reading about Zen, to actually practicing it. The next chapter, How Zen Works, will deal more directly with zazen, its main method. First, it may be clarifying to review some of Zen’s background, and its place in the American culture of the present.

POPULAR ZEN Many accounts in the media acknowledge the burgeoning popularity of meditation, including Zen meditation, in America. However, it is necessary to correct certain prevalent misconceptions about Zen, its unique worldview, in particular its meditation. We who practice it, consider zazen the pinnacle of meditation, the Zanmai-o-zanmai; Samadhi that is King of Samadhis. It is at once the simplest, and the most difficult. To illustrate the fascination with Zen, and the prevalent misunderstanding of it, it would be difficult to find a more compelling example than a recent ad in the newspaper. Under the headline How To Meditate Deeper Than a Zen Monk, an audio device promises to deliver all the imagined benefits of deep meditation “at the touch of a button” (magicalmindonline.com). Whatever the effectiveness of the device these folks are promoting, it cannot hope to match the potential of the human body and mind, in protracted Zen meditation. Benefits claimed in the ad—such as slowing the aging process, increasing longevity, stress reduction, and improvements in health—may be desirable, and achievable, but they are not what Zen is really all about. These physical results are regarded as mere side effects, and though positive, do not begin to comprehend the breadth and depth of zazen. Many of the popular books on Zen also tout its positive effects on daily life, which suggests that this aspect, self-improvement, is the main reason for Zen practice. While improving daily life is not unimportant, the purpose of Zen practice is not merely pragmatic, i.e. to be a better person; happier on a personal level; or to be a net contributor to society. These are typical side-effects of Zen practice, but not its raison d’etre. Most crucially, mistaking such benefits as the only goal of Zen can, unfortunately, become barriers to grasping its true intent. We get what we settle for. It is difficult, to impossible, to encapsulate the deeper meaning of Zen in words. But it is hoped that you, the reader, will get a glimpse of it through what follows, and will follow up by beginning to practice zazen in your daily life. Then, the gate to the true effects of Zen, and to understanding beyond understanding, will surely open upon you.

ZEN VERSUS ZAZEN It may be useful to differentiate zazen, from Zen. It is appropriate to consider Zen-like experiences in daily life, e.g. peaceful states of mind, as partaking of the spirit of Zen. But not all things considered to be related to Zen actually are. “Zen cosmetics,” to take an extreme example, and other commercial misappropriations of the cachet of Zen, are to be lamented, of course. But they are predictable offshoots, of the Americanization of Zen. Many seem to regard the effect of Zen as a special state of mind—being in the flow, staying in the moment, and so on—a sensibility that is accessible through other means, such as the contemplation, and appreciation, of nature. This is an understandable outgrowth of cultural influences, such as the popular Kung Fu television series, the promotion of “Zen lifestyle,” reflected in simple home design and furnishings, the popularity of green tea and other Asian cuisine, even cosmetics sold under the Zen rubric. But the real Zen is down-to-earth, as American as apple pie. There are more subtle, but equally misleading, distortions of Zen. One prevalent convention is that certain traditional activities are expressions of Zen, such as flower arranging (J. ikebana) and calligraphy (J. shodo). While these, and others, such as the martial arts, may, at their highest levels, represent expressions of the Zen mind, to regard their pursuit as tantamount to the practice of Zen meditation is just confusion. Zazen itself should be considered unique. It is not accurate to regard other devotional and aesthetic practices, such as chanting, walking, meditating on nature, engagement in the arts, et cetera, as in some way equivalent to zazen, or equal to its effects. Zazen is held in such high regard, that to confuse it with other practices, or methods, demeans its deeper function. Those who make, or take, these comparisons seriously, have probably not experienced sitting still enough, for long enough, sufficient to enter into Zen’s Samadhi, or deeply centered, balanced state. More on Samadhi later. It is not really possible to discuss the broader implications of Zen. without anchoring the discussion around Zen meditation, though popular misconceptions, such as those touched on above, reinforce the notion that Zen is something separate from meditation. Zen, as a worldview or philosophy, is inseparable from its meditation. In fact, zazen is the central experience, necessary to develop and nurture Zen’s worldview. Thus, my comments will necessarily integrate Zen meditation, with the daily-life aspects of Zen.

COMING TO AMERICA Zen Buddhism was formally introduced to America in 1893 at the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago, Illinois. A Japanese Rinzai master, Soen Shaku, gave the first formal presentation of Zen to the Western religious an intellectual community:

He addressed the conference that September with a series of talks, notably about karma, nonviolence, an end to war, and tolerance of other religions.

From Master Soen’s choice of subjects, we can see that from the very beginning, Zen emphasized a compassionate world view, one based on nonviolence and tolerance. Here, we also find an early mention of D. T. Suzuki:

At this conference he met Dr. Paul Carus , a publisher from Open Court Press in La Salle, Illinois. Before Shaku returned to Japan, Carus asked him to send an English- speaker knowledgeable about Zen Buddhism to the United States. Shaku, upon returning to Japan asked his student and Tokyo University scholar D. T. Suzuki to go to the United States, where he would eventually become the leading academic on Zen Buddhism in the West, and translator for Carus's publishing company.

Daisetz Suzuki may be the best-known figure in the early propagation of Zen to the West. Later on, when he was a visiting professor at Columbia University, my teacher, Matsuoka-roshi, became his student. One of Soen Shaku’s students, Sokei-an Sasaki, returned to, or stayed in, the USA, at his teacher’s behest:

Sokei-an Shigetsu Sasaki was a Japanese Rinzai roshi who founded the Buddhist Society of America (now the First Zen Institute of America) in New York City in 1930. Influential in the growth of Zen Buddhism in the United States , Sokei-an was one of the first Japanese masters to live and teach in America. One of his better known students was Alan Watts , who studied under him briefly in the late 1930s.

Matsuoka-roshi first came to America in 1939, and began recommending and teaching Zen meditation to American students in the 1950s. Like Sokei-an, he was interred during WWII, and taught meditation to his fellow Japanese. He was later renowned as a peacemaker and bridge-builder, between the warring nations of his youth and his chosen homeland. The early advocates of Zen in the West were, then, mostly Japanese. But Soto and Rinzai Zen both originated in China, and, centuries later, were introduced into Japan, the former by Master Eihei Dogen, in the 13th Century, the latter by one of Dogen’s early teachers, in the prior generation, Master Myoan Eisai. Thus, the Soto line also shares the Rinzai lineage, through its founder, Master Dogen.

BASICS OF ZEN The central function of Zen, particularly its meditation, is to transmit the spiritual insight, or awakening, that Buddha and his descendents, Zen’s Ancestors, experienced. We cannot readily translate the Zen experience into the cultural context of contemporary America. Its foundation of Judaic and Christian tenets are not consonant with, indeed are sometimes even contradictory to, Zen’s worldview. If we can set these beliefs aside for the present, we can perhaps gain a better appreciation of the differences in Zen philosophy, its meditation and its effects. It will require keeping an open mind, and resisting the tendency to interpret Zen in terms of Christianity, Western philosophy, or modern psychology.

Heart of Buddhism Zen cannot be separated from Buddhism. Zen claims to transmit the essential experience, of Buddha and the Ancestral lineage, through the same form of sitting meditation they utilized, based on the theory that it works for all. There are some differences in emphasis, between Buddhism in general, and Zen in particular, that may be important to understand. Some Buddhists, reportedly, feel that a student should not even be introduced to meditation, let alone expected to practice it, without some background in Buddhism’s teachings. This is a reasonable position to take, as the countries of origin, by and large, enjoyed widespread assimilation of Buddhist teachings in their cultures, for centuries. Especially as compared to the West, most especially the USA, where it enjoys less than a century, in tenure. But Zen Buddhism places such great trust, in what is called the buddha-nature, innate in all beings, and such confidence in zazen—with guidance from an experienced teacher—that Zen meditation, alone, is felt to be sufficient to enable anyone to penetrate to the deepest mysteries of Zen, without a great deal of intellectual study. However, since people today have manifold influences on their thinking, coming at them from all directions, including a plethora of popular books on Zen, the argument for grounding in the basics, as prerequisite to meditation, probably makes pedagogical sense. Following are a few of the basic ideas, in Zen Buddhism, that may not be familiar to you, intended to provide some context, in which to place the central method of zazen.

Self and Other The broad and deep goal of Zen cannot be stated simply as assimilating a philosophy, confirming a system of belief, or subscribing to a religious doctrine. It begins with direct examination of the self—questioning the validity of the self as we know it—and, by extension, the reliability of self- centered belief systems, and opinions about reality. From a religious perspective, this would, necessarily, induce a healthy skepticism regarding the soul, as a self-existent entity that survives death. It might also cast a less-than-rosy light, upon the logical extension, of the notion of a soul, to that of a personal god, created in the image of humankind. These fundamental beliefs of major religions, are not characteristic of Buddhism or Zen, which is one reason some of us do not regard Zen as a religion, as such. It is not theistic, so its meditation can not be understood as a form of prayer, nor even a relationship with the spirit world, or a union with God. It is more a meditation on the boundary line, if you will, between self and other. The Buddhist ideal of the true self is placed in the context of other by Master Dogen’s fourfold transitions from Shobogenzo Bendowa. Paraphrasing:

To study the way is to study the self; to study the self is to forget the self; to forget the self is to be enlightened by all things; to be enlightened by all things is to remove the barrier between self and other, and go on in traceless enlightenment forever. A social perspective on Zen practice in daily life would lead one to interpret the third phrase as “barrier between self and others,” the plural form indicating other beings, primarily fellow human beings. This interpretation places emphasis on the interpersonal dimension of Zen practice, community, or compassion; which is valid, but I believe misses the deeper intent. This social interpretation is articulated in the Precepts, which describe proper attitudes, and relationships, that are conducive to the development of the Zen way of life, in the context of community. These guidelines are most related to right conduct, the ethical side of the Eightfold Path of daily practice. The line might be interpreted as relating, not to others, in the sense of other people, or even to other sentient beings, but to other. “Self and other” can be more tightly interpreted, and its deeper meaning more fairly elucidated, in the singular case. Even if we are sitting alone in a cave, in a mountain fastness, there is still the barrier between self and other. The barrier between self and other is a fundamental, categorical error, in Zen, an apparent break in a unitary reality. It begins in the crib, perhaps, when the infant begins the process of individuation, through self-awareness; continuing through adolescence and beyond. In its spiritual dimension, it is akin to the fall from grace in Christianity. It can lead to alienation from one’s fellow sentient beings, both human and non-human. But the Zen path to rapprochement—or at least, détente—of self and other, is not a program of improving our relationship to others through behavior modification, as the social model might suggest. By more zealously following the Precepts, for instance, although this is encouraged. The more direct and dependable way, is to forget the self—which can come about only by being “enlightened by all things,” as Master Dogen points out. “All things” includes not just human beings, but all sentient beings, with the insentient world thrown in for good measure. All of creation—the entire universe—is manifesting the truth, or law, of Buddhism, i.e. dharma. Dharma is not only teachings as found in the record, but includes the governing principles of natural, and societal, law. So any ordinary thing, in the entire universe, is capable of illustrating the dharma, in the hands of a Zen master. Throwing down a whisk, striking the floor with a staff, simply raising a finger—such gestures demonstrate the whole of the truth, for those with minds to see. The self, in Zen, is not separate from other, though it is, to a degree, from others. That is, you are you, and I am me; you are not me, and I am not you. And yet, we are not totally separate, either— thus the term, we. Consider your skin, for example, the physical envelope of self, which you may regard as separating you from all others, and from our surrounding environment. But it is also what joins us to all other. Under an electron microscope, the membrane that is the body’s largest organ is seen to be highly porous (thus the word, pore), and host to a great deal of traffic, in and out of the body. That which separates, also joins, and vice-versa. We also experience togetherness, and separateness, on the emotional level. We join companions, and groups, with which we are comfortable, and avoid those who make us uncomfortable. Through zazen, we do tend to develop a capacity for patience with other people. This is a profoundly helpful effect, that Zen practice can have on day-to-day relationships. But it does not turn us into a welcome mat. Even Buddha was said to not suffer fools gladly. Patience with our relationship to the impersonal other—not-self—develops as well, owing to the fact that zazen requires the exercise of great patience with our self. By developing patience with our own self, we are able to have more patience with others—as well as with the other. That is, we can have greater patience with the impersonal, material world. The circumstances of life that cannot readily, or solely, be attributed to the actions of others, can require great patience to endure, as we have no one to blame. Such circumstances as our age, health, ultimately our mortality— and most excruciatingly, our humiliating lack of control over those very circumstances—often try our patience, as much as people do. Even the insentient world of materials, and processes, can be frustrating, when things refuse to behave the way we think they will. We have to come into harmony with nature, rather than expecting it to bow to our will. The separation of self and other, as a concrete reality, or as an abstract concept, is, after all, learned, and thus can be un-learned.

Nonsense Zen’s approach to meditation is empirical, open-ended, and non-judgmental. But it does not literally fit the technical definition of empiricism, as the kind of knowing that is derived from the senses. The insight of Zen comes about in spite of the senses, rather than through them as sense data, though the senses are the springboard, the point of departure. This is indicated in an early stanza of the Heart of Wisdom Sutra chanted daily in most Zen temples: “Given emptiness (shunyatta), there are no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind.” This means, not that the senses do not exist, but that the senses are not what one thinks they are. They are telling only part of the whole story, and further censored by the discriminating mind. According to Zen, we must come to see beyond the senses, to the emptiness at their core. Zen does not deny the reality of the senses, but does challenge their sufficiency. Sense organs process data through the brain, the thinking organ. The thinking mind is limited to, and distorted by, its formed conceptions of reality. In crucial ways, we see, hear, and feel, what we prefer to see, hear, and feel. Conception affects perception, in reverse. Conceptions are learned, and come to color perception, to the detriment of clear, and fresh, apprehension of reality. Dreaming, sensory deprivation, and certain hypnotic states, reveal that the mind can simply make up objects, which are perceived as real, in the absence of real, tangible objects. Which illustrates the power of the imagination, to distort present reality. Zen’s meditation is not a form of sensory deprivation, of course. Stimulus is kept relatively constant, tuned to moderate levels. In zazen, we sit in a normal environment, with moderate sound, temperature, and light levels; fully aware of our surroundings, and intensely engaged with the senses. Sitting still enough, for long enough, our perception shifts to the perception of sensation itself, rather than perception of objects through the senses. Sense data neutralizes, through adaptation, much as we adapt to the weight of our clothes. This is conducive to immersion into a neutral, balanced state of attention (Samadhi).

Observation Zen refines the process of simply observing, dispassionately, who or what we are, and how we behave. Observing the observer, in other words. In Zen, who is already prejudicial, implying and reinforcing the self. What is the more neutral term. Thus, what is it that is meditating, and upon what? is a more pointed observation. Observation in zazen focuses on the breath, physical sensations, emotional feelings, and watching thoughts, or concepts, arise, a four-point model attributed to Bodhidharma, 28th ancestor in India, who is credited with introducing Zen’s meditation practice to China around 530 A.D. The Western model of self identifies it, or us, with thought; exemplified by the Cartesian formulation, “I think, therefore I am.” Some meditation teachers recommend labeling, categorizing, thoughts and emotions as they arise, as a way of establishing some emotional distance from them. It enables us to practice dispassionate observation, of even our most private thoughts. We are not, now and forever, doomed to be caught up in thoughts, identifying with them. Zen enables us to objectify, to neutralize, them. We begin to notice that the same kinds of thoughts come around, again and again. This helps undercut their importance, to weaken their hold on our attention. They are clearly less than unique, or original, redundant as they are. It is as if the mind has a finite set of pigeonholes, each containing a class of thought. We may recognize, Oh, this is a thought about sex… drugs… rock and roll. Or work; family; money; and so on, endlessly, repeatedly, niggling variations on a few themes. They may seem endless, but we quickly learn that the pigeonholes are not. Most thoughts will fit into one, of maybe a dozen, distinct categories. Unless you are an Einstein, that is. Then there may be many. While sitting in zazen, we observe sensations, emotions and reactions, along with various concepts the mind may conjure. All are treated as equal in importance, or unimportance. The practice of bare observation of this kind, leads to bare observation in daily life as well. The more we can dispassionately observe the restless mind, squirming about on the meditation cushion, the more indifference we feel, for the so-called self. In a sense, we fall out of love, or infatuation, with our own self.

Balance Zen is not simply the practice of positive mental attitude. But negativity is surely easier to develop and sustain, on a personal level, as well as within a group. Zazen has the effect of overcoming negativity, be it circumstantial or personal in origin. Practicing zazen for some time, most people seem to achieve a more balanced outlook on life, neither overly optimistic, nor pessimistic. Zen is realistic, in its philosophy, as well as its method. One concrete, psychological benefit of practicing zazen is that attitudinal negativity, whether toward Zen, or as a general cynicism, can be overcome. Zen practice is based on a positive premise, a positive outlook on the potential of all, to uncover original nature. The source of negativity is rooted in personal self-doubt. By pulling up its roots, it will wither, and all other forms of negativity will wither with it. A newcomer to Zen may react negatively, regarding its emphasis on extensive engagement in meditation, as an avoidance of reality. Or, may think it obsessive navel-gazing, wallowing in the mud of self-pity, rather than doing something about life’s problems. Some misconstrue it, as a way of distancing ourselves from the world, becoming detached, rather than non-attached, even to the point of not caring. Or it may appear self-aggrandizing, reinforcing a sense of superiority over others, e.g. those who do not meditate; a kind of new-age snobbery. Some even see it as self-mortification, an endurance contest, in which the best meditator is the one who can put up with the most pain. Macho Zen. There are many such misunderstandings of Zen, even amongst practitioners, so it is understandable that Zen may be seen in a negative, or questionable, light, by newcomers. For similar reasons, for longtime practitioners, it may be necessary, from time to time, to take a reality check, reexamining their physical, mental and emotional commitment, from the perspective of evolving practice over time. An experienced teacher can help with this. This feedback process is typical of the Zen approach: our experience, perception and conception effect changes upon each other, feeding back to inform our worldview. The change generally transpires in subtle stages, morphing through ever-deeper levels of insight. It is not simply repetitive navel- gazing, but the “development of refined attention,” to use His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s phrase. Perseverance Repetition is more important than duration, frequency, or regularity in Zen practice, including meditation. Zazen will get you through times of no money, better than money will get you through times of no zazen. Sheer persistence, perseverance, pays off. The primacy of perseverance is also true of Zen’s Precepts, which we observe in daily life, again, mainly when we violate them. When we note, for example, that we have been praising ourselves at the expense of others, however unintentionally, we observe, and re-commit to, that particular Precept. Through repetition, vowing to follow the Precept again and again, it becomes an automatic reaction, eventually inhibiting the violation. Similarly, by sheer dint of repetition, in zazen, the natural conditioning process of sensory adaptation sets in. Repetition is more important than frequency, how often we sit; duration, how long we sit each session; or even how regularly. In this last regard, some Zen teachers recommend going against type: if you are regimental in your daily life, better your zazen regimen be a bit sloppy. If you lean to anarchy, tighten zazen up, a bit. Repetition has a way of wearing down our preconceived notions of the familiar. In a familiar example, try repeating a word—such as elephant—aloud. Intoning the word over and over, it quickly loses association with its meaning, i.e. the animal named. The sound becomes abstract, a string of syllables as arbitrary as any other, such as pachyderm, or garage. Continuing this exercise, it becomes stunningly apparent, that the meaning we impute, to the set of sounds comprising the word, has no actual connection to reality. In a similar way, the repetition of ritual, such as chanting, and meditation, particularly that of zazen, begins to break down all (pre)conceptions of it. Gradually, the stubborn insistence of the so- called monkey mind—to pre-define reality—loosens, opening the gate to direct insight, into the concrete reality of Zen. The critical discipline, assuring success, is simply that we never give up. No matter the circumstances, and they will change; no matter our experience in zazen, from wonderful to wretched; we just do not, ever, give up. Given sufficient time, returning to zazen again and again, in the face of the vagaries of life, and the vicissitudes of fortune, the effect of zazen inexorably sets in. This occurs, in some wise, by the very juxtaposition of the sense of constancy, with the chaotic changes, that we all, inevitably, go through. Zazen becomes a constant in our life, perhaps the only constant. Like the rudder on a ship, plying the stormy seas of Samsara, the ocean of existence, Zen meditation becomes our sanctuary and guide.

THREE MINDS OF ZEN Zen posits three kinds of mind (J. sanshin), to be developed through the practice of meditation, following the Precepts, and other prescriptions of Buddhism. They are magnanimous mind (J. daishin), nurturing mind (J. roshin), and joyful mind (J. kishin). A person working to benefit Buddha's family, or sangha, should maintain these three mental attitudes. Like most of the formulations of Zen Buddhism, the separation into three represents a useful way of characterizing reality that is actually indivisible. The three minds may be correlated with the three bodies (trikaya) of Buddhism: the essence body (dharmakaya); transformation body (nirmanakaya); and enjoyment body (samboghakaya). The transformation body is the physical body, in continuous change, and the body that can nurture others; the essence body is the true body that is not limited to the physical, and can be magnanimous in embracing the suffering of others before its own; the enjoyment body is joyful in the service of others. These are not seen as separate, but, as in a venn diagram, overlapping dimensions of one whole being, the enlightening being (bodhisattva). Magnanimous mind (Daishin) Magnanimous mind is one of the three kinds of mind posited by Zen, and developed in zazen. Dai means great, or big, but not in the conventional sense; it is the big of emptiness. Dai is inclusive, encompassing, all-pervasive; magnanimous. Shin means heart/mind, not just intellect, but also emotions. Magnanimous means forgiving, embracing. So Daishin is all-embracing in its magnanimity. The most difficult aspect of existence to truly forgive, or embrace, is the inevitability of suffering. Zen meditation is not deployed to avoid or eliminate suffering, as some meditations may promise, nor to passively accept it. Its objective is to overcome it. Overcoming is not the same as eliminating, or avoiding. Master Dogen’s name includes do, or way, and gen, or eye. But this eye is no ordinary eye. Sengen means eyes of the bodhisattva of compassion (J. Kanzeon, Ch. Quan Yin), known as Avalokiteshvara in Indian Buddhism. Gen, eye, then, refers to the thousand eyes with which Kanzeon sees the suffering of the world. The bodhisattva of compassion also hears the universal sounds of suffering, with thousands of ears; and with thousands of hands, bears implements to help mitigate all forms of suffering. What are the sounds of suffering? Are they the wailing and gnashing of teeth of human suffering? There is certainly a lot of that going on. But the suffering that Buddhism teaches is that of the entire universe. What is everything suffering? Change. The sounds of suffering are the sounds of change. Change is transpiring, moment by moment. It is unceasing and “fleeting as an arrow.” Today, we might seek a more apt metaphor, such as the speed of light, or the vibration of a quartz crystal; more suited to a modern take on the frequencies of physics. What sound are you hearing at the moment? The sound of the TV; a furnace fan; a vehicle passing by; a bird calling; the chatter of a squirrel? All are sounds of suffering, or change, dukkha. The passing pageantry of life, embraced in the magnanimous mind. Fully understanding the existence of suffering, Buddha’s challenge to the first Noble Truth, leads to liberation, in the midst of suffering. But this liberation does not eliminate suffering. Suffering caused by humankind, which may be termed intentional—the kind inflicted upon oneself and upon others (and, usually, unnecessarily)—can come to an end. It includes social, and psychological, pain, which ensues from living in a complex civilization, where the best of intentions have unintentional consequences. Suffering of the universal kind—aging, sickness and death, which may be termed natural—continues unabated, to the end of time. To be magnanimous, then, is to willingly accept our fair share of suffering. Suffering can be mitigated, by embracing of our personal travails as the playing out of a universal principle: the inevitable consequence of existence itself. By virtue of this willing embrace, our personal contribution to the suffering of ourselves, and to others, may be diminished. A transformative effect of Zen, awakening to magnanimous mind.

Nurturing mind (Roshin) Nurturing mind, the ability to nurture others, emerges along with the growth of magnanimity of outlook. When our own suffering is embraced, and resolved, we experience a kind of compassion. That is, we recognize that we are the recipient of compassion. When we are in receipt of compassion, we have a surplus of compassion, to share with others. Of course, we can feel, or “practice,” compassion for others, by engaging in charitable works, for example. But this is not yet true compassion. Practicing compassion in this manner, however, helping others, plants the seed for true compassion to grow. Engaging in good works can further our progress, in understanding suffering. It can enhance our ability to relinquish our own clinging to the Five Aggregates, and to awaken the heart of true compassion. Zazen nurtures compassion for ourselves, helping to embrace our own faults, and allowing us to see the faults of others for what they are: not actually faults, but a manifestation of suffering. In seeing our own faults, and not seeing the faults of others, we become truly nurturing. This, too, is a transformative effect of Zen practice.

Joyful mind (Kishin) With the embrace of magnanimity towards all, and the ability to nurture others that flows from it, we can come to experience a great joy, joyful mind. Joy, or happiness, is usually thought to be the result of favorable circumstances. And in a larger sense, even spiritual joy may be karmic. But happiness, in daily life, may be best regarded as something that we practice. In this way, it becomes independent of circumstance. Indeed, the only real happiness, or joy, may be that which is associated with existence, itself. It then has the characteristic of being universal, and absolute, rather than local, and relative to circumstance. “Something’s always coming along to take the joy out of life” is an old, and true, saying. There are lamentable circumstances that cannot bring us joy, but only despair. But on close examination, they are the results of actions of people, including ourselves, who do not yet know the magnanimous, nurturing, and joyful mind. These three minds are presented in order, as if the development of one precedes the next, and then the third; but in reality, they are another Venn diagram, three in one whole.

NO LOSS; NO GAIN Cost/benefit ratios are usually expressed in terms of loss or gain. We gains something desirable; we lose something undesirable. Or vice-versa. But Zen eschews the notion of gain or loss, as a kind of fantasy; real in some sense, but fleeting at best. Zen proceeds apace, unrestricted by doctrine, scripture, beliefs, or any system of knowledge. Such systems usually speak of what is to be gained by following the rules: prosperity, or salvation. In Zen, zazen is the focus of practice-enlightenment, so enlightenment may seem to be what is to be gained, by Zen practice. But enlightenment does not depend upon practice. In this sense, nothing is attained through Zen practice. No understanding, no state of grace, no fundamental change; in our existential predicament. Since nothing is attained, there can be no gain, no increase, in fundamental knowledge. Nor can there be any decrease in suffering, nor any change in the conditions of existence, that we might hope to mitigate through the practice of zazen. In Zen, this is known as no gaining idea. Because we have no gaining idea, the benefit of Zen practice cannot be placed in any conventional category. Zen does not hold out any spiritual candy. It should, likewise, be apparent that there cannot be anything lost, either. Reality is a zero-sum game, no actuarial tables need apply. A Catholic priest, a chaplain at the Federal Pen in Atlanta, as he was escorting us out, sincerely asked, “What would I gain by practicing meditation?” My reply: “You would not necessarily gain anything, but you might lose something.” This struck him as very interesting. That we might be harboring something contrary, superfluous, or extraneous, something that is getting in our way, is an intriguing possibility. Losing that, which is between yourself, and direct spiritual experience, would be a good thing. This kind of losing in Zen is identical with gaining: there is no actual loss or gain. But our attitude, awareness, our knowing, can change. It can change in such a way that we definitely gain broader, deeper insight, into the true condition of our own existence. And, concomitantly, lose our constraining and limiting opinions, about our own existence. However, these things gained or lost, are not things at all, but merely ideas, projected onto reality. These are learned ideas, as ideas are wont to be. They begin at birth, or even before, according to the Buddhist doctrine of rebirth. They are our favored ideas; preferences that describe the way we would like things to be; the way we wish things were. The effect, of being free of such opinions, is one of profound liberation.

MEANINGFUL Someone once said that Zen is about the understanding of meaning. This seems a bit circular, at first blush. In the beginning, all manner of theories about what Zen is about, come up: why we are doing it; how we expect it to affect our life; and so on. But sitting in zazen, among the many attachments that we eventually relinquish, are our own ostensible goals; the complex clusters of meanings, imputed to life; especially those associated with Zen. Much of the Zen literature is devoted to the effects of zazen, in daily life. But this is putting the cart before the horse (or the ox). The effect of zazen on the self, our idea of the self, comes first. Any ancillary effect on our outer life, follows from inner effects. After some time, our initial ideas, about what we are doing in zazen, become irrelevant. Including, most pertinently, its hoped-for effects on our daily life; in terms of performance, relationships, and so on. The conceptual takes a back seat to the actual. The same change emerges, in other areas of practice. In following ritual protocols, such as the Buddhist bow, for example, a roughly three-step process takes place. First, we impute presumed meanings to the bow; e.g. obsequiousness; public religiosity. Then, through repetition, we see those meanings fall away. And finally, we find what were, at one time, empty or phony gestures, beginning to take on new meaning. This meaning may be virtually inexpressible, but it is powerfully real. This is when the effect—the possibility of grasping the deeper meaning, in Zen practice and daily life— becomes real.

SIMPLICITY One ubiquitous, overarching Zen instruction is summed up in the curt phrase, Just sit. This can be an appropriate answer, to virtually any question asked of a Zen teacher. It might, however, be seen as a cop-out, on the part of a newcomer to Zen. Or it may be seen as insensitive, to the needs of anyone in deep distress. It seems incredible, that just sitting could do anything significant—to change our circumstances; to change our attitude toward them; to change our behavior—in a positive way. How could it, just sitting still, bring about real transformation? After all, everything in our life may continue to deteriorate, while we just sit there. Of course, Zen does not make claims, that its practice will change the circumstances of life. It is not a prosperity religion. But, because the practice of zazen has long-term, and irrevocable, effects upon how we regard our own situation in life; potentially, an indirect effect on circumstances can be seen, over time. Zen’s direct effect, however, is upon the being, not the environment. Through change, we come to consume change. Simplicity is an ever-more-evasive goal, in the lives of 21st-Century America. In the artistic, design and engineering professions, simplicity is considered very difficult to achieve. Classic examples include such taken-for-granted items, as the bobby-pin, and the entire class of simple machines. The round sitting cushion used in zazen (J. zafu) is a fitting example. Very difficult to improve, as it represents a kind of ultimate simplicity, in form following function; and efficiency, in minimal consumption of materials. Zazen itself is of the utmost simplicity in design; stupid-simple, to put into practice. It would prove very difficult, to improve upon the simple design of zazen. The instructions given in Soto Zen centers today, are basically identical, essentially verbatim, with those taught by Master Dogen, in the thirteenth century. Simplicity prevails. And it works.

This chapter has touched on some of the broader dimensions of Zen Buddhism, including how it came to America, some popular misconceptions about it, and some of the differences in the worldview promulgated by Zen versus that of Western society. In the next chapter, we will look more closely at how Zen works, exactly, through the application of its central method, Zen meditation. (Quotes to come)

C. HOW ZEN WORKS

Zen works. By works, I mean that it serves to solve the central thesis addressed in this text, for readers seeking relief, from the existential dilemma poised by religion without evidence, science without spirit, politics without principle, and life without hope. In this chapter, we will explore the influence of Zen practice on our daily life. And will attempt the impossible: to convince you, someone who may have never had any experience of zazen, or even of meditation, that Zen meditation is sure to work. That is, if you persist, in practicing this highly specific form of meditation, it must eventually bear fruit. Inevitably, you will experience the same insight that Buddha did, or something similar. But it is impossible to convince, in words alone. Verification cannot be separated from cultivation, in the practice of Zen meditation. In other words, at the risk of repeating myself, you must do the hard work of zazen to uncover the evidence for yourself. This bears repetition, as it is the only way your needs will be satisfied, the only way you will come to fully appreciate Zen, for yourself. Furthermore, in order to clearly distinguish Zen’s unique form of meditative practice from others, it is necessary to practice it extensively. It is not for dilettantes, or quitters. The difference may not become apparent for some time. This will become obvious, but cannot be overstated at the outset. I will attempt to highlight some of the more salient, short-term and ongoing, effects of Zen practice that may transpire in your life, particularly its transformation of your worldview. These changes primarily stem from the effects of zazen. Their depth and breadth depend upon the intensity of your effort; that is, upon how still you sit, and for how long. This is because mind and body cannot be separated in Zen. Just sit, sit, and sit.

GAME CHANGER If you practice Zen meditation diligently, it will prove to be a game-changer in your life. This cannot be proved a priori, but long-term practitioners of zazen will testify to the kinds of change, subtle but profound, that they associate with its practice. Because it has dramatic, pragmatic effects on our nervous system, our attitude, and even our physical body, many followers of Zen report being surprised by such effects, which have not resulted from other forms they have tried. They freely attribute these to the long-term practice, of the objectless meditation, of Zen. This can include such prosaic matters as feeling better; overall better health; finding that problems in relationships have diminished; even being promoted at work. Several have said, that one of the reasons given for professional recognition and advancement, is that they are able to work well with others, even able to get others to cooperate with each other. This comes as a surprise to the individual, as it often does not fit their self-image. But time on the cushion often translates to greater patience with oneself, which makes it natural to have greater patience with others. This, in turn, can translate into better relationships at work, at home, and in the community at large. No guarantees here, but this is a common kind of change reported, after a person has been practicing regularly for a year, or more. Again, side-effects, such as these, are not central to the claims of Zen. Changes in outlook and performance, while undeniable, and welcome, do not represent the deeper, more significant effects of Zen, and its meditation. Those would have to be described on a less pragmatic level; that of spiritual insight, or perhaps emotional maturity. Not that zazen is a form of therapy; just that its effects become therapeutic, in the broadest and deepest sense of the word. Zen is good for what ails you.

ZEN & MEDITATION While surveying the history, and the conventional place of meditation in the popular culture, we will simultaneously try to differentiate the meditation of Zen, and its effects. The intent is not to derogate other forms of meditation, but to point out that the preternatural process, leading to spiritual insight, finds its simplest expression in zazen. Zen’s simple premise, and the reason that zazen is central to its practice, is that if we simply sit still enough, long enough, everything changes. It has to. How still is still enough, and how long is long enough, depends. It remains to be seen, in your experience. But you might fairly ask some basic questions, such as: How does it work in general? How is it different from other meditations? How often do you have to do it, to be effective? And how, exactly, do you do it? The how-to instructions are probably already familiar to you, and readily available from any number of sources, so we will not dwell on them. We will instead focus on the how of it as the scientific quest: How does it work? Let’s begin by reviewing a bit more of the history of meditation in America. For a brief backgrounder, we turn to Daniel Goleman, Ph.D.:

Meditation was new to the West some fifteen years ago when I wrote The Varieties of the Meditative Experience, which form the first three chapters of this book. To be sure, Eastern teachers such as Yogananda and D. T. Suzuki had come to America much earlier and had gained followers here and there. But during the late 1960s and early 1970s there was a blossoming interest in meditation like none the West had witnessed before.

I, myself, began practicing meditation with my teacher at the Chicago Zen Buddhist Temple in the mid-1960s, and so was part of this blossoming. In those days, it did not seem as though meditation was catching on, on a very large scale. But then, there was no Internet, and no e-mail; only the beginning of rudimentary personal computer technology; and little hint of the communications revolution it would bring. Dr. Goleman goes on to point out the rapid assimilation of meditation into the culture at large:

Now, more than a decade later, things have changed. Meditation has infiltrated our culture. Millions of Americans have tried meditation, and many have incorporated it into their busy lives. Meditation is now a standard tool used in medicine, psychology, education, and self-development. In addition, there are many old hands who are now well into their second decade as meditators.

So meditation has, long since, gone mainstream. But, as the survey of attitudes quoted herein, illustrate, it still has a long way to go, to become a dominant force in the culture. While meditation is becoming mainstream in America, there is still a substantial majority, who have no direct experience of meditation; even more, who lack training with an experienced teacher. A majority may even have a negative preconception of meditation, Zen or otherwise, as mentioned above. Others may have a positive attitude toward meditation, but never experienced the intensity of zazen. It is important that you understand the difference, whichever group you fit into. For now, let’s continue exploring the background. The Microsoft Word dictionary defines meditation as:

1. the emptying of the mind of thoughts, or concentration of the mind on just one thing, in order to aid mental or spiritual development, contemplation, or relaxation 2. the act of thinking about something deeply and carefully, or an instance of such thinking 3. an extended and serious study of a particular topic

A workable definition that most of us would accept, considering the conventional place of meditation, in contemporary US culture. The first definition is not central to zazen, however much the language might sound similar. The distinctions may be subtle, but they are crucial; to wit: Zazen is not an aid to achieve another goal. It is not considered a means to an end, but the full expression of enlightenment, just as it is. Its attitudinal method is not concentration on one thing, but one of paying full attention to everything, without discrimination. Zazen does aid mental and spiritual development, contemplation and relaxation. But relaxation can be over-emphasized. It is a side-effect of zazen. Zazen’s process includes relaxation of the nervous system, and of imbalanced muscular tension. More importantly, it leads to the relaxation of our defensive reflexes, and the resistance of the opinionated mind. This mind is not easy to relax; it requires intense and prolonged effort. This mind is stubborn, one reason it is sometimes called monkey mind. Like the monkey whose fist gets stuck in the cookie jar, because he stubbornly clutches too many cookies in his fist, the monkey mind won’t let go without a fight. “Emptying of the mind of thoughts” is not something we attempt to do in zazen, and it is not a goal in Zen. In fact, we find it impossible to do, by force. Attempting to stop thinking is still thinking. Thoughts, naturally, come to play a less central role in our awareness. The monkey eventually wears itself out, and lies down to take a nap, like a kitten or a puppy-dog. In time, we come to see what is meant by Buddhism’s emptiness (shunyatta), but it is not merely the absence of thought. The second and third definitions are more germane to scholarly pursuits, than to contemplative traditions, and have little to do with zazen. Zen does not rely primarily on thinking and study, though we do recommend studying the written record, along with meditation. The two tracks inform, and reinforce, each other, if pursued in a balanced manner. More central to Zen’s thrust is to contemplate deeply, honestly, and in detail, our own worldview; with a growing skepticism as to its validity. We engage in a sustained, and serious, study of the self, supported by study of what Buddhism teaches about self, and its non-dual relationship to other.

THE SPICE OF MEDITATION In the course of his book, Goleman clarifies differences and similarities between a wide variety of meditation approaches, including Hindu Bhakti, Jewish Kabbalah, Christian Hesychasm, Sufism, Transcendental Meditation, Patanjali’s Ashtanga Yoga, Indian Tantra and Kundalini Yoga, Tibetan Buddhism, Zen, Gurdjieff’s Fourth Way, and Krishnamurti’s Choiceless Awareness. By now, twenty years later, the list itself would likely comprise a book; but as a general overview, Goleman covers most of the bases. Introducing the survey above, he says, “Experience is the forerunner of all spiritual teachings, but the same experience can be expressed differently.” In Zen, the direct experience comes first; intellectual analysis, and expression, a distant second, and third. Americans seem to approach meditation as a kind of smorgasbord of entrees, grazing through a feast of varying scents, textures and flavors. But Zen meditation is like water: refreshing and nourishing, yes; but relatively tasteless. It is difficult to convey the utterly, irreducible simplicity of meditation, as distilled into zazen. Our self-centered ideas of the world, and of our place in it, eventually have to give way, under the relentless laser-beam of Zen’s dispassionate observation. Beginning meditation with our ordinary thinking mind (citta), then progressively giving it less and less to think about, eventually the intuitive mind (bodhi), will manifest. This is an inevitable outcome. But, of course, there are many obstacles, along the way. The monkey does not give up easily. In zazen, various and sundry immediate effects may appear to you, such as apparent hallucinations, dreamlike states, and the like. It really does not matter, whether they seem weird and threatening, or pleasant and seductive. The long-term effects can be seen only in retrospect, over time, and these are the ones that have life-changing implications. Various benefits of Zen practice will be explored in the next chapter. Here, it will suffice, to stress that we should keep an open mind, an attitude of acceptance, to whatever occurs in our meditation, Everything that occurs in zazen is, in a sense, the product of our own mind. This means that the effects of zazen, no matter how bizarre, are always, in some sense, present; even if we are unaware of them. They are not produced as a result of sitting in meditation. Any genuine insight gained through meditation, in other words, will be an insight into something that is already true. Meditation does not change reality—it cannot add to, or subtract from it—it can only reveal it. Usually, we are too distracted to notice the kinds of things that come to the fore, in zazen. We begin to notice more subtle impressions, primarily because we sit very still, for rather long periods of time. It is really just that simple, in principle. In practice, however, especially in the beginning, most changes, other than pain in the legs, are so subtle as to be below our threshold of awareness. Those sensations that are not subliminal, are not necessarily particularly pleasant, or insightful. This means that we should not give any one impression too much importance, nor disregard anything as entirely unimportant. After all, we cannot know, a priori, whether a given experience is a hallucination (J. makyo), or the awakening of the original mind (bodhi). This is the ambiguity that is inseparable from Zen. It is not an effect of zazen, but simply comes with the territory. These, and the following observations, are meant to be illustrative of differences between the real zazen, and popular misconceptions about it. They are only the tip of the iceberg, selected for relevance. They are based on anecdotal, personal experience, as well as the testimony of practitioners, noted over several decades of practice. As such, they are not scientific claims; neither are they idle speculation.

Mind Your Own Mr. Goleman continues, introducing Zen and zazen in the context of mindfulness meditation, and the application of Zen practice to daily life:

As with mindfulness, all varieties of zazen broaden their focus from sitting meditation to the meditator’s whole range of life situations. True enough, as far as it goes, but it does not stress, strongly enough, that in Zen, meditation comes first, the application to daily life last, at best a decidedly distant second. It is important to be clear on this point. Many people come to Zen with the idea that the purpose is to become a better person, better able to cope with daily life. Let me repeat, that this is far from the deeper purpose of Zen practice, though it is a normal side-effect. Moreover, if we are too eager to see immediate effects in our daily life, disappointment is sure to follow. We may become discouraged and quit, long before the longer-term effects of Zen sink in. Goleman then mentions Zen’s well-known independence from scripture:

Zen’s down-to-earth zazen matters, but extensive scriptural studies are discouraged. The early Soto master Dogen stated: No matter how well you say you know… the esoteric and exoteric doctrines, as long as you possess a mind that clings to the body, you will be vainly counting others’ treasures, without gaining even half a cent for yourself.

Quoted out of context—which, of course, is how all quotes are quoted—Master Dogen’s comment can use some clarification. In his time, as in ours, scholarly erudition often trumped experience, in the prevailing view of wisdom. Master Dogen countered this tendency, with a single- minded emphasis on direct experience, in zazen. The “mind that clings to the body” is the same mind that clings to erudition. This clinging exemplifies a fear of aging, sickness and death, that is one hallmark of the discriminating mind. By losing yourself in erudition, you may hope to find an escape, or at least a temporary reprise, from the inevitability of suffering. “Counting others’ treasures” refers to the hope that we can somehow get something from the efforts made, and the insight gleaned, by someone else. A teacher, or a written teaching, may offer some helpful clarification or guidance along the way, but final resolution, of the crucial issue of life and death, will come only from direct experience. In zazen, we confront the true condition of existence head-on, jumping in both feet. Master Dogen does not imply that there is anything, actually, to gain, even from zazen; but only asserts that we will gain little, from the writings of others.

Cause and Effect The above recalls a familiar teaching, touched on in the prior chapter, that there should be no gaining idea, in Zen practice. Zen goes further, to admonish us that real gain and loss are both impossible. It comprehends reality as a zero-sum game. Therefore, it should be clear, that Zen does not claim that zazen as the sole cause, of the effects attributed to Zen, up to and including enlightenment; or better, awakening. We cannot make the case that it is necessary to do zazen, in order to experience awakening. But zazen seems entirely necessary, on a practical level. Again, creative ambiguity. No causal relationship can be demonstrated, between sitting meditation and awakening. But the relationship is, also, not casual. Zen Buddhist insight cannot be said to be the direct effect of zazen, as a cause. But sitting in zazen undeniably has an effect. It has many effects, the most important being its effect on our concrete experience, of our own physical being. Because it is counter-intuitive—it seems too simple to be effective—it has an indirect effect on our mental, and emotional, sense of being, as well. This tweaking of the psyche is perhaps the most dramatic side-effect of zazen. We tend to become less neurotic, naturally, just by sitting, and facing what we actually are. Zen meditation works, but only if one sits still enough, long enough. And precisely because it is a kind of mental ju-jitsu, an intuitive work-around, it circumvents the thinking mind. This is in stark contrast to what is usually meant by meditation: a deeply thinking, mental effort. Zazen examines reality on the concrete, physical plane, beyond the bailiwick of thought. Master Dogen captured this in an expression, paraphrasing, “If the cart won’t go, do you beat the ox, or beat the cart? Most would say beat the ox (the mind). But I say, beat the cart (the body).” If we make our body sit, our heart and mind, or heart-mind (J. shin), the stubborn ox, has to follow. The cart may be tethered to the ox, but the ox is also tethered to the cart. In zazen, as our attention turns away from mulling over the past, and planning the future; it naturally turns from focusing on our thoughts, to focusing on the senses. The Heart Sutra includes an abbreviated testament to the experience of insight into emptiness, and it starts, tellingly, with the senses. The most relevant line is “… given emptiness [there is] no eye, no ear, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind…” This does not mean that the senses are unreal, or that they are absent, in zazen. It means that in Zen’s dynamic state of awareness, usually expressed as emptiness (shunyatta), the senses are seen to be dramatically different, from what they usually seem. With sustained and intense observation, all of our senses adapt, neutralizing gradually, as well as abruptly, at times. We might imagine this process as being analogous to building a charge on a capacitor. Given sufficient electricity, in time it maxes out its capacity, and, eventually, the spark jumps the gap. Similarly, sitting upright and still, with fixed gaze; surrounded by a relatively fixed, moderate environment; the stimulus received by the sense organs becomes relatively constant, and intensifies. It is as if a charge builds, on the fields of seeing, hearing, and feeling. In reaction to the unchanging input, a cache of energy accumulates in the body’s neural, electrical and chemical networks, like a slow- motion, low-voltage electrocution. The visual after-image; “ringing” in the ears; and numbness; are the most commonplace and familiar symptoms of these effects setting in; but all five senses—six, counting the mind—undergo a similar, adaptive response.

EMPIRICAL CONCENTRATION Zen meditation’s technique is empirical, in the sense that it is based on observation, and experiment. It does not presuppose an objective, but is open-ended, and exploratory. Goleman begins his description of the process of zazen:

Zazen begins, as does vipassana [insight meditation], with a firm grounding in concentration; a variety of concentration techniques are employed.

Here, he is referring to familiar methods, such as adjusting the posture, observing or counting the breath, and attending to thoughts as they arise. But again, concentration, in zazen, is not forced mental attention, upon one object (as described in Goleman’s “path of concentration” section), nor the dispassionate, but tightly focused, observation of whatever train of thought arises (“path of mindfulness” section). Concentration in Zen is, instead, a process that takes place over time, and is analogous to creating a super-saturated solution, as a senior Zen student once observed. In high school chemistry class, the teacher stirs crystals into a large jar of water. At one point, the solution becomes saturated. No more crystals will dissolve. Turning on the Bunsen burner, the water heats up, and more crystals can be seen to dissolve. Finally, the teacher turns the burner off, and passes a Petri dish around. All can see the single, tiny crystal lying in the dish. When the now super-saturated solution has cooled off a bit, the single crystal is dropped in, and shazam! The entire contents of the jar instantly change state to a single, solid crystal. Concentration in Zen is like this. Over time, with repeated meditation, our attention, our entire being, becomes concentrated, super-saturated. This is sometimes referred to as a state of ripeness, like fruit on the vine. How long it takes, and when it peaks, depend upon many factors. Some people are more ripe and ready than others, when they first begin practice. Some are slow horses, some are fast. But eventually, anyone will come to this state of concentration, or Samadhi. Goleman then defines this stage:

Samadhi or jhana is, in Zen terminology, the “great fixation” or “a state of oneness” in which the differences between things dissolve so that they appear to the meditator in the aspect of sameness. This is an intermediate stage on the path toward Zen’s final realization.

This is where Goleman’s description begins to veer a bit off-track from my own, personal experience. Sameness, of this kind, sits about halfway around the full circle of Zen meditation’s orbit. But there is nothing fixed about it. Apperception of unity, or sameness, amounts to a kind of insight, and is genuine, but is far from the finish line. More importantly, there is no finish line.

RINZAI VERSUS SOTO It may be, that Goleman’s divergence from my own view, stems from the influence of Rinzai Zen, which enjoyed much wider awareness, than did Soto Zen, at this time. Rinzai and Soto, both lead to the same epiphany, if pursued diligently, but their way of getting there is distinctly different. Rinzai, sometimes called generals’ Zen, reflecting its popularity with the military, ruling classes, the Shogunate, in medieval Japan, with its emphasis on the Bushido code. Soto is called farmers’ Zen, because it is fitting for the ordinary villager, or peasant. The former is characterized by the intellectually driven practice of meditating upon illogical conundrums (J. koan) to force insight quickly. Whereas Soto, nearly exclusively, stresses a more laid-back way, of silent illumination. It is of utmost importance to understand that Soto Zen, unlike other meditation approaches, is not based on a linear model of development to “final realization.” In fact, the well-known expression, beginner’s mind (J. shoshin) implies just the opposite. That is, the first-time practitioner’s zazen, is essentially identical, to that of the most experienced Zen master. Both have the same final purpose, that of salvation. This can be debated, but as a mindset, it is crucial. If we are led to believe that there are stages that we will pass through, we will irresistibly find ourselves looking forward to the next, or even final, stage, and miss what is in front of our face. But, the other side of the coin, is that one should not be blindly attached, to what is happening in the present, either, no matter how hypnotic. As Goleman points out, quoting D. T. Suzuki:

Suzuki warns (1958: p. 135): “When this state of great fixation is held as final, there will be no upturning, no outburst of satori, no penetration, no insight into Reality, no severing the bonds of birth and death.” Deep absorptions are not enough. They are necessary but not sufficient steps toward enlightenment. The wisdom of insight follows after and flows from samadhi.

Here, the good doctor is warning against getting suck in a false Samadhi, mistaking it for spiritual awakening, (J. satori), prematurely imagining what we have achieved, to be goal of Zen. The best way to avoid these pitfalls, of course, is to avoid conjuring any concepts, however compelling, about the goal, or final stage, of Zen. Again, there is no final stage. This quote, and all of the great Dr. Suzuki’s writings, should be viewed as informed by his training in Rinzai Zen, rather than Soto. His view reflects the values and bias of the scholar, as well, as opposed to that of a simple practitioner. Because D. T. Suzuki was an early, influential writer, and teacher, of Zen in America, most early Western interpretations of this quintessentially Eastern worldview, including the influential works of Alan Watts, Suzuki’s student, were slanted toward Rinzai, with its interesting koans. The Rinzai approach to zazen, in large part, regards it as a vehicle for attaining enlightenment, along with koan study; a means to an end, however worthy the end. Soto Zen regards zazen, instead, as the full expression of enlightenment in the present, rather than a present means to a future, hoped-for, end result. This focuses our attention, not on a riddle assigned by the teacher, but upon the present reality, the riddle in which we are sitting. This is the real koan, according to Soto Zen. But Dr. Suzuki’s point is well taken. We should not assume that our present experience in meditation, no matter how compelling, is the end of the path, or tantamount to enlightenment. In fact, all ideas, and expectations, of enlightenment, or insight, should be set aside, along with all everyday concerns. Ideas about enlightenment, or awakening, are only ideas. Aspiration to awakening, however, which is not the same as an expectation of what it might be, should be nurtured. It is undefined, and so not merely an idea. An expectation, however, already has the outlines of what the goal is, however fuzzy. It is bound to be based upon what we have read, or heard, about enlightenment, from secondary sources, and therefore not dependable. When fruition of practice comes, it will be undeniable, not to worry. It does not depend on conceptualization, just the opposite. It is inconceivable.

KINDS OF MINDFULNESS Mindfulness is a term often used to describe both the method, and a hoped-for result, of meditation. It is frequently misread, as simply staying aware in the present moment. The practice, and experience, of this kind of mindfulness—which is very different from our usual, distracted and dreamy, state of awareness—marks a preliminary phase, a training that helps establish mental discipline. Most people have a difficult time being, or consciously remaining, in the moment, for any sustained period of time, either in meditation or in daily life. Distracted by anxiety, planning for the future, daydreaming, or revisiting the past, is more the norm. Goleman (1988, p.20) places mindfulness in the context of the “path of insight”:

This path begins with mindfulness (satipatthana), proceeds through insight (vipassana), and ends in nirvana. The first phase, mindfulness, entails breaking through stereotyped perception. Our natural tendency is to become habituated to the world around us, no longer to notice the familiar. We also substitute abstract names or preconceptions for the raw evidence of our senses. In mindfulness, the meditator methodically faces the bare facts of his experience, seeing each event as though occurring for the first time. He does this by continuous attention to the first phase of perception, when his mind is receptive rather than reactive. He restricts his attention to the bare notice of his senses and thoughts.

Here is another distinction, important to distinguish Zen’s approach, in contrast to insight meditation’s mindfulness. Rather than methodically restricting attention, Zen emphasizes paying attention to anything and everything, simultaneously, and without discrimination. We observe the transient nature of all, rather than focusing on any one idea, such as a preconceived phase or stage, here labeled as perception. This is an intentional exercise in discrimination. Perception is one of the familiar Five Aggregates of clinging, also known as receptivity, that we visited in Basics of Buddhism, a phase that we will transcend naturally, in zazen, when the time is ripe. Insight meditation, Goleman explains as the focus of the “path of concentration,” which proceeds in three phases: first mindfulness; then insight; then, finally, nirvana, liberation. But this phased approach would be regarded as a preliminary, beginning attitude in Zen. Zen points to mindfulness in a different sense, raising the question, Mindfulness of what? Mindfulness, in Zen, is practiced as a disciplinary attitude, to counter the discursive bent of the mind, similar to its function in Satipatthana and Vipassana, but not staged. Our busy, hungry mind is inclined to look for something exciting, or at least interesting, or entertaining, all the time; like a high- strung monkey. It is more entertaining, to sit and think about something, than to sit and not think about anything in particular. Simply paying strict attention, to anything and everything, is a welcome palliative to the tendency to daydream, rerun the past, ruminate on familiar grudges, or plan for the future. But bare attention is not, itself, an ultimate objective of Zen meditation. To live in an end-state, of just noticing what is happening, would amount to a kind of mindlessness. Thus we return to the question of what we become mindful of in Zen. Of course, it begins with cultivation, of our ability to pay unrelenting attention, in the moment. It includes mindfulness of Buddhism’s teachings, notably the Four Noble Truths. But mindful of their significance, in reality, not as food for thought. Stimulating the thinking mind is not encouraged, in Zen meditation. It is not necessary, and can be counterproductive. This is why Zen teachers often discourage reading about Zen. It simply fills the mind, with ideas about reality, that distract from our immediate apprehension of reality. The term reality is not meant as a conceptual definition, in which my reality is the real one, and different from yours. It is chosen to point at unfiltered experience, beyond concept; the concrete reality that we all share. Mindfulness in Zen is not, then, simply a conscious, willful refocusing of our attention. Mindfulness, through confirming evidence observed through the senses, becomes direct awareness of the fundamental reality of the teachings of Buddhism. One becomes mindful of shunyatta, emptiness, in the present moment. How does emptiness look? How does it sound? How does it feel? Mindfulness in Zen is, then a profoundly transformative process, a re-experiencing, not just a re-conceiving, of the very basis of our being.

OBJECTLESS The dualities of subject-object, mind-body, and self-other are necessarily present, while we are learning zazen. They are intrinsic to standard instructions, such as observing thoughts, counting the breath, correcting posture, et cetera. But these exercises, necessarily dualistic, are understood to be preliminary and provisional, and not of the essence of zazen. Zazen is not step-by-step meditation, but, as with any other specific activity, must be presented in digestible steps, in order to be taught, and learned. However, finally dispensing with all objects of concentration, zazen leads to the non-separation of subject (mind-self) and object (body-other). This objectless meditation (J. shikantaza) results from the natural process of adaptation, through repetition. This effect is central to training in music, art, dance, or any other activity, in which the object is that the technique become second-nature. Then, real music, art, dance, real Zen, can emerge. Zazen is uninhibited, by concepts about what is supposed to happen, when meditating. This is freeing, in a way that any method retaining an object of contemplation would, necessarily, not be, however lofty the object. Because it finally becomes objectless, zazen is not, strictly speaking, a meditation. But objectless is not the same as purposeless. Attention to anything and everything, rather than concentration on one thing, is the focus of zazen. Its purpose is to wake up.

EXPERIENTIAL TRUTH Truth, in Zen, once again, is not based on scripture, or on belief. And zazen, yet again, is not a form of contemplation, as in the conventional definition of meditation; as in contemplating a teaching, or an object, in order to assimilate its meaning. Zazen transcends the duality of a subject meditating upon an object. This is qualitatively different from meditating, e.g. upon a specific teaching; about the philosophy of reality; centering prayer; or contemplating nature; for example. The focus in zazen may be said to be consciousness, itself. But this is not meditating upon a concept of consciousness. It is beyond words and thought. To be perfectly circular, it is consciousness, contemplating consciousness, through consciousness. As mentioned in Basics of Buddhism, under Five Aggregates & Meditation, the subject, the predicate, and the object, so to speak, are the same. The message is the medium. Zazen is, then, very direct. It leads to direct authentication, through direct cultivation. This authentication, personally witnessing the Buddhist truths of impermanence, imperfection, insubstantiality, and therefore no-self; is found only in our own experience. Buddhism speaks of this experience, as identity with the truth, rather than knowledge of it. That is, identity of self with the higher truth. This is the true self of Zen. This ultimate identification is a long-term effect, so we should not expect too much, especially in the beginning of our practice.

ENLIGHTENED UNLEARNING One way of thinking about how zazen works, is as a process of unlearning. All of our preconceptions, and misconceptions; indeed, all of our ordinary conceptions; will finally fail the test of zazen. We come to an experience that is beyond conception, perhaps even beyond what can be called experience. This is because zazen is a way of unlearning. What is unlearned, is what we think we know. By thoroughly, and directly, investigating the world we occupy—through seeing, hearing, feeling, and thinking—we come to see through our own confusion, our own ideas and opinions. As one result, the meaning and relevance of creation, and evolution, to us, on the personal level, can then, and only then, become clear. This is the only way to resolve the ostensible, root conflict of the debate, that originally inspired this dissertation. Reality creatively evolves, right before our eyes.

EXPERIMENTAL METHOD Zen meditation is an open-ended experiment. Like science, it is a process of discovery. Each time we return to zazen, it is like re-entering the laboratory, of consciousness. The method is empirical, though not limited only to data accessible through the senses, one definition of empirical. That is, Zen’s investigation is not limited to sensory perception, but has the effect of changing one’s perception. While the effect is not an object of perception, it completely rejuvenates, refreshes, our perception. Experimentation, in Zen, is attitudinal; its method, highly repetitious. It is important to always maintain an open mind, to approach zazen as an ongoing experiment. It never actually repeats, in part because the experimenter, and the circumstances, are always changing. Zazen is an ongoing, aggressively adaptive, activity. Zazen works, then, precisely because it has no predetermined, or prescribed, content. No suggested focus on scripture, a given teaching, or a belief system; no defined goal, or objective. Zazen works, precisely because we sit with no object in mind: nothing to gain, nothing to lose. The gateless gate opens wide, to unrestricted experience. This, then, effects, in complementary ways, our goal- oriented attitudes and behaviors in daily life; amounting to liberation, in the secular sense; freedom—to pursue them, and from them. How just sitting still enough, for long enough, can bring about any significant transformation, in the life of the individual, may, itself, be a question amenable to scientific investigation. It is, after all, a how question, the basis of scientific inquiry. Study of the measurable effects of meditation has been pursued exhaustively, for many decades, and is continuing apace. But it is doubtful, that science can ever capture the entire footprint of zazen, in any comprehensive, or definitive, sense. It is a bit like chasing the rainbow; as the measurements get closer to the truth, they reveal something else just out of reach, an aspect that is not measurable, in the present stage of experiment. Somewhat like the uncertainty principle of physics, but applied to consciousness, itself. Zen, like science, is based on observation. Science does not try to control the outcome, but only the parameters of the experiment, so that the findings are clear. Similarly, Zen does not preconceive, and attempt to accomplish a defined goal, in its meditation, but simply observes what happens, each time the experiment of meditation is conducted. It controls the variables, such as environmental factors, for the same reasons the scientist does. A major difference with most science, and the major reason that Zen transcends science, is that the person doing the experiment is, already, the bull’s eye of the target. The results are not to be found outside of the self. Thus, there is no pretense to objectivity. In Zen, the observer is that which is observed.

QUANTITY VERSUS QUALITY As a practical matter, we cannot do zazen 24x7. So the question becomes, how much must we sit, in order to enjoy the ostensible benefits? How much zazen we need, can be thought of as dosage, like medicine. Just as it is necessary to take all of an antibiotic, prescribed in amounts to fit your unique physiology, and medical condition; and to follow, precisely, the exacting schedule, set out by the physician; so must your practice of meditation be sufficient to the task, and tailored to your individual temperament and character. Dosage in zazen is as important, if not as precisely measurable, as in medicine. It varies by our situational peculiarities, much as dosage varies by body mass, and the extent and nature of the specific dis-ease. If you take only part of the prescription, you may only make the situation worse. If you are only going to dabble in Zen, it is really better to not do it at all. To repeat the prescription, repetition in zazen is more important than regularity, more important than frequency, more than the duration of each session, though all four parameters contribute to meditation’s effectiveness. Repetition trumps the rest, because Zen is a long-haul program. It is not a quick fix. If you are looking for quick results, you are sure to be disappointed, mainly because you are preconceiving the effects, and creating an expectation. Persistence is more important than the quality, or results, of any given period of sitting. So it is best not to set your expectations too high. Setting rigid rules, about how regularly, how frequently, and for how long, you must sit; may just be setting yourself up for failure. Just sit when you can, no matter what, regardless of circumstance. Easier said than done. We cannot put precise, quantitative parameters, on how much meditation is enough, but perhaps we can state a rule of thumb, for how much is too little. If you are not sure, it is reasonable to assume, that your regimen is not yet enough. Most meditation teachers and practitioners would probably agree, that daily meditation of a half hour or so, is a practicable minimum, to begin to see results, say, within a year. Daily practice, sitting once or twice a day, complemented by weekly group attendance, comprise a reasonable program, given that a sitting group is available. One of the effects of sitting with a group, is the encouragement, and reinforcement, received from the presence and efforts of others, who are dealing with similar issues. It is highly recommended, but important that the group not become another distraction. It happens. Serious Zen students also commit to long retreats, where they engage in multiple sittings, throughout the day, and periods of longer duration than usual. The opportunity to raise the bar on your effort is available in group sittings, by attending day sits (J. zazenkai), or week-long, and longer, retreats (J. sesshin). One effect, of sitting for days on end—which may not sound sensible to the novice—is that it puts our usual, daily or weekly practice, in perspective. It often turns out, that what we had thought to be enough, is actually very little, in hindsight after a long retreat. A half-hour of meditation seems like the blink of a gnat’s eyelash. The qualitative cannot be divorced from the quantitative, in zazen. If one sits still enough, long enough, the effect of zazen will set in. Of course, this begs the question: How still is still enough, and how long is long enough? This returns to the matter of dosage, unique to each individual. Again, the rule of thumb, is that you have to assume that you are probably not sitting still enough, and not long enough, if there is any doubt about the matter. Zen meditation’s effectiveness goes beyond the matter of dosage, and finally depends upon a kind of dogged persistence. If you can sustain your practice, in the face of no apparent progress, then cultivation can become verification; practice can become enlightenment.

BEING AND ENVIRONMENT Providing an environment conducive to zazen, is important to supporting your practice. Everything in the meditation environment, which can be a small corner of the room, or a large sitting hall (J. zendo), is intentionally fine-tuned, to be consistently the same, from session to session, to the degree practicable. Ambient conditions—sound, light and temperature levels—should be moderate, and dependably so. Avoid times, and places, where and when you are likely to be interrupted. On long retreats, each person ideally sits in the same location, in the same room, facing the same wall, to enhance the sameness of stimulus. Attuning our consciousness, to a constant sameness of stimulus, counters the predilection of the discriminating mind to choose, between sameness, and difference. This is another kind of mental ju-jitsu, anticipating any problems, with an environmental solution. Nothing is ever, actually, exactly the same twice, of course; all the more reason to err on the side of sameness in designing your meditation surround. Zazen is said to still, or quiet, the mind. The stillness to be found in zazen, is magnified, through the artificial, relative sameness, of conditions maintained in the environment. It becomes more pronounced, compared to sitting in a variety of locations, for example, where the sensory surround is different, and potentially more distracting. Great athletes are noted for their ability to focus, under changing circumstances, such as the distractions of large and noisy crowds, variations of terrain, and ambient weather conditions. Similarly, Zen trains us to meditate in virtually any environment. Through repetition, the stillness in mediation becomes quite extreme. Eventually we feel a mental clarity, and an emotional level of serenity. It can be quite compelling, leading us to believe that we have tasted the fruit of Zen, much like the false satori Dr. Suzuki warns against. This can lead to complacency. But it may be only a preliminary calming of the nervous system, and thinking mind, temporary at best. If you persist, and resist the impulse to judge zazen, as succeeding or failing; a more profound kind of stillness will emerge. In this stillness, there is movement; in the movement, there is stillness. It is on a subtler, finer scale, of motion and stillness. According to an old Zen formulation, stillness is motion; motion is stillness; and silence is thunder; thunder is silence (J. mokurai). The two are not separable. Motion and stillness, silence and sound, always and only co-exist. The silence is in the sound; the motion is in the stillness; and vice- versa. In Zen stillness, being and environment merge, becoming not-two.

PHYSICAL VERSUS SPIRITUAL From the beginning, Zen Buddhism does not separate the physical and spiritual worlds. This non-duality is fully actualized in zazen. Physically, the posture becomes balanced and centered, while sitting upright. Sitting on a cushion cross-legged, kneeling, or sitting on a chair, the most important aspect of the zazen posture is that the spine, neck and head be upright. Sitting in this way, the body weight comes to balance around the spine, and eventually the effort of sitting evens out, becoming one, balanced effort, throughout. The spine is not straight, in the sense of a straight line, of course, but settles naturally into a gentle S-curve, the balanced position of the vertebrae, when sitting upright. The head, likewise, is balanced over the shoulders and neck; the arms hang loosely at the sides; and the hands rest together on the legs, one atop the other. The effort of sitting upright distributes evenly, throughout the body, until it becomes virtually uniform. This brings about a state of equilibrium, equipoise: a completely balanced relationship of the body’s muscle mass and skeleton, floating in the field of gravity. Equipoise has the meaning of counter-balancing a force, a weight or an influence. Among the most critical forces, or influences, that are encountered in zazen, and in need of a counterbalance, are our own, egoistic temperament, and character. These are traits psychologists consider inborn, and learned, respectively. They determine our usual ways of perceiving, and conceiving of, and reacting to, events and circumstances. They can also come between us, and the experience of insight. Because they are survival-prone. In the zazen posture, the skeleton is, in effect, floating in the muscle mass. The effort is distributed so evenly, through the musculature, tendons, and ligament system, that many long-term sitters report sensing that they are actually floating, a feeling of effortlessness. This may be difficult for a beginner to believe, but those who have been practicing for some time definitely experience it. Videos of astronauts, somersaulting in zero gravity, give some idea of the delight of this sensation. Or rather, lack of normal 1-G sensation. Zazen works physically. It is not an exclusively mental activity. It is also not something that occurs on a spiritual plane, separate from the real, material world. Such a dualistic model, of meditation and spiritual insight, a learned concept, is one of many such related ideas that are transcended in zazen. In Zen, the physical and the spiritual, the sacred and profane, are not separable.

HOLISM AND BUDDDHISM Most forms of popular meditation emphasize ignoring certain aspects of awareness, such as negative thoughts, and concentrating on specified areas, instead. This approach is characteristic of what is often called guided meditation. Instructions, given to newcomers to Zen, necessarily share characteristics of guided meditation, such as focusing attention on the posture, the breath, and tips on managing the train of thought. However, Zen’s guidance ends, when the meditation begins. There is no talking-through what we should be thinking, or experiencing, at this moment; nothing about what comes next; no meditating upon a koan, or teaching. No leading us by the nose, through a prescribed sequence of practices, stages, or phases. Instead, zazen simultaneously engages all dimensions of our being: the physical, mental, and emotional; and, by extension, the social. All of these dimensions are in play, in zazen. And, while the sitter will naturally progress, through various stages of practice, these are not prescribed, or dictated, by the teacher. Common patterns of experience, in different practitioners, can be detected over time; but it does not follow, that it is a good idea, to lay these out beforehand. One shape does not fit all, as a prescription for practice. It is also important to distinguish between the appearance, and the reality, of zazen. We can spend the rest of our life imagining that we are doing zazen, when we are only sitting and thinking, or daydreaming. If, instead, we persevere in the real zazen, holistically, rather than a conceptual, thinking- based approach to meditation, nothing can prevent its having a profound effect, upon our apprehension, and appreciation, of reality. The real zazen occurs, when the body posture, the breath, and the attention, all come together, in a unified way. When this occurs, we are not controlling, or even doing, the breathing; the body is breathing. The breath is breathing, and the attention is breathing. Attention is paying attention, to the body and breath; body and breath, are paying attention to each other, and to attention, itself. Attention pays attention, to attention. Body bodies the body; breath breathes the breath. Consciousness examines consciousness, through consciousness, with no filtering intermediary, of conceptualization. Better not to conceive of, or yearn for, anything, even satori. This comprehensive, coming-together, may seem to occur early, in your practice of meditation; but if so, it is likely a temporary diversion. Better to regard it as a peek in the tent, rather than a false insight, Samadhi, or satori. Each time it recurs, it may go a bit deeper, and appear more complete. Eventually, this state of mind—not a state, as it is on no way static—becomes our new normal. Like any other worthy endeavor, it takes time, and repetition, repetition, repetition; it bears repeating, for zazen to ripen fully. As it is a holistic method, the effort required is holistic, and the effect is holistic as well.

THE BODY RULES Each person has a different body type, sometimes dramatically different: think Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny Divito. Most people follow a regimen, of diet and exercise, relatively unique to them. Thus, the physical body of each practitioner enters into meditation, as a unique entity. The body is inconceivably complex, consisting of hundreds of muscles, bones, and their attaching ligaments, and tendons, not to mention the organs. To borrow a term from Buckminster Fuller, it is a tensegrity system, a framework of compression members (bones) floating in a tensional net (flesh). Thus, the question of how much zazen is enough, depends upon your own body. The unique physical attributes you inherited, as well as your own treatment, and training, of your body, determine its degree of flexibility; and, to some extent, the consequent level of comfort, in meditation. Zen meditation is said to be the comfortable way, but for most of us, it is anything but comfortable, in the beginning. This is driven by, and largely dependent upon, your physical body. Zen meditation is essentially the same, simple process for each individual, but its details—the specific posture, the intensity and duration of each session, et cetera—can be tailored to the individual. Zen is for everyone, in that it can be practiced just about anywhere, and under any conditions. These are some of the reasons to claim that it works, pragmatically speaking. Whether it works on a personal level, or not, depends on you. In Zen meditation, concrete physicality is the beginning and end-point of the effort. But it becomes effortless, naturally. Again, the upright posture eventually comes into complete balance, wherein the tone, or turgor, of the muscles, on opposite sides of the bones they attach to, is in total equilibrium. The body thus resides in equipoise, physical samadhi. This can feel like floating. But the way zazen feels should not dictate practice. Most people think of themselves as living in a body, but Zen points to the non-duality of mind and body, the entanglement of consciousness and corporeality. Again, the body does the sitting, the breathing, and the living. We are, in effect, sitting this one out. In Buddhism, it is considered good fortune to be born as a human being. This is because the human body is the necessary vehicle, for awakening to spiritual insight. Other sentient beings— chickens, dogs, cats and cows—not so much. They are not absolutely excluded from the possibility, as they too share buddha-nature, but the causes and conditions of their existence, including their karmic consciousness, makes self-awakening highly unlikely for them. In Buddhism, a stanza of Repentance is frequently chanted, as in one translation:

All my past and harmful karma Born from beginningless greed, hate and delusion Through body, speech and mind, I now fully avow

The relevant phrase here is, through body speech and mind. This recognizes that most of our actions come from this body. The physical body is the root source of thirst, hunger, sexual craving, and the desire for creature comforts, safety, and security. The polar attributes of clinging, attachment and aversion, come with the territory; and in that sense, are not the fault of the person. This stinking skin sack, an ancient Zen expression for the human body, carries the seed of its own destruction, and drives most of the human being’s behavior. This does not mean that we do not assume responsibility, for our behavior. The only person who can really do so, is the person reading this. But Zen does recognize the limits of our control, over reality. Again, the example of breathing. In Zen meditation, the breath is observed, not controlled. It is best to wake up to this reality, before it is too late. Waking up, physically as well as spiritually, can actually happen, according to Zen. The wakeup call is zazen.

SENSORY ADAPTATION Zazen fosters a profound sensory adaptation. It begins by paying close, but dispassionate, attention, to each and all of the six senses: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching and thinking. Eventually, the senses adapt. Samadhi slowly but surely sets in, as a neutral, or balanced, stance, vis-a- vis the senses, including the thinking mind. As Dr. Suzuki mentions, this is not yet enlightenment, or the preferred term, awakening; but it is something we can register as real. It is qualitatively different, from the everyday state of mind, that we register as ordinary. But it is not separate from that mind. The expression from Precious Mirror Samadhi, quoted prior, capture this sameness-in-difference: “A silver bowl filled with snow; a heron hidden in the moon; taken as similar, they are not the same.” So close, as to be indistinguishable, by the ordinary senses. Thus, we might regard the process of zazen in this singularly simple way, intentional engagement in sensory adaptation. But how does it effect the sixth sense, mind? Engaging in the repetitive, and counter-intuitive act, of just sitting still, our normal way of thinking about reality, as apprehended through the senses, must also eventually adapt, as the senses themselves do. The degree of adaptation exhibits a one-to-one correlation, with the degree of intensity invested in sitting. Sitting still is difficult; ask any writer. Because sitting upright, and still, for long periods of time, is not natural, in the adaptive sense, unless you are hunting prey; something eventually has to give. What eventually gives is our opinion, or idea, of what is normal reality. It is gradually, and naturally, replaced by a worldview that increasingly approximates that of Buddhism. The emptiness spoken of in Zen is not a concept. It becomes our reality. Spiritual transformation, then, begins on the sensory level, in Zen. The order in which the senses are usually listed, from the visual to the tactile, parallels, loosely, the range of frequencies on the electromagnetic spectrum, from light, through sound and temperature, to gravity, with chemical sidebars for smell and taste. This is not an arbitrary formulation, but reflects the sensitivity-scaling of the senses. The order is the reverse of that of the skandhas, which are presented on a scale from the base, to the ethereal. The sensory spectrum begins with the most refined, or subtle, sense, the acute vision of the eyes; then the softer, deeper and broader sense of hearing; then bridging the chemical senses of smell and taste, into the relatively gross tactility of the body. Lastly, the model of sensory knowing, and potential for adaptation, includes the thinking mind. It is the intentional, self-sensing activity of the central nervous system, translating raw sense data into percepts and concepts, and planting seeds of future causes and conditions in the underlying storehouse consciousness (alaya vijnana). All six senses undergo transformation in zazen. Usually, one sense is more amenable to unraveling than the others, depending on the individual. Hearing, for example, is often cited as the first sense, through which an individual awakens, spiritually. It is the sense that has the fuzziest boundaries, so naturally comes unraveled most readily.

COMFORT ZONE Zazen, again, is supposed to be the comfortable way. Yet, everyone experiences discomfort in zazen. Men, as compared to women, particularly, feel more physical stress. As my mother would frequently say, “Women are more loosely put together.” They are more comfortable, with the stretching of tendons and muscles, caused by the cross-legged, or kneeling postures. These are, essentially, yogic postures, different in intent. More muscular legs, and general stiffness of the body, resist the sitting posture, especially the crossed legs. Even sitting in a chair quickly becomes uncomfortable. But it is actually an advantage, to have physical difficulty; as it gives us something to work against, and a sense of progress, as the sitting becomes easier. The discomfort that accompanies zazen, in the beginning, becomes the content of our attention, a real koan. Resistance is not only of a physical nature, but also mental, and emotional. Women, who, again, find the practice more physically easy, often encounter mental and emotional issues, right away. Along with, or instead of, resistance in the body, comes confusion in the mind, as well as anxiety in the nervous system. It doesn’t seem right, or logical, that this simple, sitting meditation, should be so difficult. Zazen is, after all, billed as the comfortable way. Some newcomers give up at this point, assuming it will only get worse. Of course, it usually does. But it also gets better. With repetition, the initial difficulty of sustaining zazen itself, the intensity of the discomfort, diminishes, and eventually falls away. The body adapts. Our resistance diminishes on both levels, body and mind. Ironically, this can lead to another kind of disappointment. The increasing ease of zazen, seems to indicate that there is no progress. This, in turn, can lead to complacency, or to frustration. Just when you thought you were getting good at Zen, your expectations may, once again, be disappointed. When this occurs, it is important, and difficult, to hold onto your aspiration, while tempering expectations. The distinction may not be readily apparent. Expectation tends to the specific, and induces anxiety. This leads to the feeling that we should be doing something about it; the anxiety, that is. The thing to do, is to just sit, only even more. Aspiration, on the other hand, is nondescript, and inspiring. It cannot be approached directly, or defined, and so cannot interfere with zazen. Trusting our intuition is critical, at this juncture. Our comfort level, with discomfort, increases, over time.

WITHDRAWAL The popular literature, on meditation, convincingly makes the case for physical and psychological benefits, of all forms of meditation. Many books, on Zen meditation, do so as well. But Zen goes deeper, not settling for psychological, or physical, results, however welcome they may be. On the cushion, we don’t think through these things, in a logical manner, of course. There may be no intentional thinking, about them, or about anything else, for that matter. But all things being equal, our body-mind will, dependably, begin to react to zazen, even on a subconscious level. It will register pain, and resistance in the legs and back. It is normal, after all, for the body to seek pleasure, and to avoid pain. The mind will tend to find the neutrality of zazen pleasant, and novel, at first, but boring, later on. This is similar, to the way it reacts to everyday circumstance, such as being hungry, or tired. When the novelty wears off, the body-mind will begin to expose its nature. It will grow impatient. The level of serenity, that you may have once experienced, will prove elusive. You will, predictably, experience a significant level of discomfort, of a physical, or psychological nature. Everyone inevitably hits the wall, given enough time on the cushion. It comes and goes, sometimes returning with a vengeance. Ecstasy-cum-agony then becomes the content, of our practice. You may, once again, be disappointed, and unpleasantly surprised, at the level of discomfort engendered, by your resistance to zazen. The American Medical Association uses “a significant level of discomfort” as the criterion for withdrawal, in defining an addictive substance. We might similarly regard the process of zazen, as a kind of withdrawal. We are, in a very real sense, withdrawing from our senses, from ordinary seeing, hearing, and feeling. Significantly, this includes withdrawal from the thinking mind, as well. We give up the comfort, the familiarity of our usual thought processes, in reacting to, and analyzing, our own, familiar sense impressions. Through withdrawal, the familiar becomes surpassingly strange.

PERSISTENCE OF PERSISTENCE Here is where the open mind of empiricism comes fully into play. Persevering, in the face of disappointment, requires setting aside the expectation of any preconceived result we would expect, of Zen practice. It does not, however, require giving up our aspiration, which is not the same as an expectation, as we have seen. Zazen is like cultivating a garden, with no guarantee of a harvest. We must approach it as an ongoing investment, with no guarantee of a return. On the exterior, each time we return to the cushion, everything appears to be much the same as the last time. But time has passed, our age and personality have changed, if imperceptibly, and the external circumstances of our life have changed, if subtly. Every new zazen session takes up, precisely where our last session left off, though sometimes we may seem to be backsliding. Each time, entering into zazen, we give up any past idea of what Zen is about, and open up to the great, present mystery of discovering what it is really about. This is one meaning of beginner’s mind. We constantly re-invent Zen, in this sense. But it is not necessary to change, or reinvent, the form of zazen. Just sitting is simplicity itself, yet profoundly complex, in its power to transform the self. The effect is to open the mind to beginning, and re-beginning, each day, each moment, open to discovery. This effect may occur quickly, disappear again, then recur, depending on circumstance, as well as the temperament, and character traits, of the individual. Zen, through zazen, helps to bring about an integral balance, in all these aspects of daily life. If you are persistent enough, you will begin to experience non-thinking. At this pass, thinking may occur, but it is not the center of attention. If you do not give up, you will eventually enter into non-doing. At this remove, you have given up all pre-conceived notions of purpose, desire, and results. Now, you are just sitting. This is when zazen becomes enough, to be effective. But you are still not finished. You do not reach an endpoint, but instead come to turning points, in zazen. It goes deeper, and deeper, like a pile-driver, with each new session.

TERMINAL NORMALITY Zazen leads to a termination of our usual way of thinking, and the ordinary idea of doing. In zazen, the monkey mind is given little to work with. As a result, it may go a bit berserk, dumping thoughts out in a random rush, jumping around, from limb to limb, of the tree of consciousness. Eventually, while sitting in meditation, our culturally conditioned dependence on thinking is transcended, supplanted by non-thinking, as mentioned. The monkey mind, worn down by patience and perseverance, finally lies down, and takes a nap. What comes to the fore, is the intuitive side of the mind, that kind of intelligence that is not dependent on discrimination, and analysis. This, happily, has a salutary effect on our ability to deal with daily life, particularly in situations where intuition is a valuable ally. This would include, for example, dealing with people whose motives are not transparent. Or, when strategies based on analysis, don’t seem to work. Equally rewarding, independence, from our compulsive dependence on thinking, enables us to use it well, when needed. When the immediate challenge is of a mental nature, when the project, or problem at hand, demands an analytical response, the mind is ready. Far from disabling the ability to think clearly, the ability to stop thinking, actually enhances it. It is like exercising a muscle. Rest and exercise are both equally necessary, mentally as well as physically. Just as conditioned dependency on thinking is replaced by Master Dogen’s non-thinking, the concept of doing zazen is replaced by genuine experience of zazen. Which involves non-doing, as well as non-thinking. We slip into a kind of autopilot, where our intent is not explicit, nor specific. It is okay, not to know what we are doing. At this ambiguous extreme, something occurs, something that we cannot, intentionally, do. This eventuality is pointed at by various expressions in Zen lore, such as seeing the nature (J. kensho), a small awakening. But we should not mistake this kind of event for full spiritual awakening (J. satori), ascribed to Buddha’s experience. It may be only a peek in the tent, as cautioned before. But there is only one tent, and it is the big one. No matter what happens, or does not happen, in zazen, the instruction is to continue. We just keep on keeping on, no matter our idea, or expectation. Only in that way will we penetrate all the way to the heart of zazen, the terminus of normality. This cannot be accomplished through thinking, and it cannot be done by doing. The effect on daily life, is that we learn how to go beyond the limits of self-centered thinking and doing, the norm of normality, in everyday affairs as well.

ABNORMAL ZAZEN It is not normal to sit for long periods of time, doing nothing. Partaking of this abnormal activity, eventually forces a change of view, as to what constitutes normality. Sitting through life’s changes, and through our ego-resistance, everything we consider normal, simply has to change. Zazen works, because it is physiologically impossible, for it not to work. It works precisely because it works directly on, and through, the senses. Zazen works in the multiple manners described above, using the model of the five aggregates of clinging, as an outline of its progression. In a progressive process of adaptation, directly through the senses, our experience in meditation adapts completely to, and thus transforms, our normal grasp of reality. This process establishes a new normality for the individual, one that even supplants the blocking inhibitions of the survival-oriented psyche.

MEANINGFULLY PURPOSELESS Zazen is different from conventional meditation, because it has no pre-determined objective, as such. It is purposeless, in that its true purpose is so broad and deep, that it cannot be put into words, nor can its effect be known beforehand. This does not mean that zazen is a meaningless activity; far from it. Since Zen has no defined purpose, it would be meaningless, only if life itself were meaningless. Having no defined purpose, Zen opens the door to the deeper purpose, and meaning, of our existence. In practicing zazen, we do not know what we are trying to achieve, in any specific sense. Usually, people engage in an activity for a purpose; they have some idea of what the goal is. When studying science, the arts, or even religion, for example, we can usually articulate the reasons why we are doing, what we are doing. In the beginning, Zen practice is like that. Newcomers to Zen can usually state what it is, that they think they are looking for, or at least describe what is missing in their lives. Usually, they aspire to what they have read, or heard, about the benefits of Zen: calmness; serenity; peace of mind; strength in coping with the hectic pace of modern life. And usually, they find some degree of respite from their troubles, in the early going. But after a while, they often find the novelty wears off, and meditation does not seem to provide the escape from their troubles that it did at first. This is one of the many crises, or barriers, to be overcome in zazen. Actually, it is another turning point, an opportunity to deepen practice, and to see that zazen transcends the ups and downs of life. Some people, in the depths of despair, come to see their very life as meaningless. The meaning of life, however, does not depend upon the various purposes we ascribe to it. In fact, we are continually discovering new meaning in our lives, meaning that is often at odds with our purported goals.

SAMADHI AS METHOD Samadhi may by now be a familiar term, as it has been mainstreamed in the literature. But it is usually treated as mysterious, so we will attempt to demystify it a bit. First, Samadhi will be considered as to its role in the method of zazen; in the next chapter it will be revisited as an effect of zazen. Zazen Samadhi, then, is a good example of the Buddhist principle, that there are no causes, separate from effects,; no effects, that are not also causes. Samadhi is a term bandied about by the cognoscenti, in meditation circles. But it is often poorly understood, and may sometimes be misrepresented. Samadhi is not simply zoning out. It is integral to the process of how zazen works. It is critical to bringing about transformation of self, of our worldview, and understanding of the self, on the cushion. By extension, it is central to the transformation of our daily life, in all its many, off-the-cushion dimensions. These are articulated in Buddhism’s Eightfold Path, including outer conduct, as well as inner discipline. Over time, our view and thought, two of the eight dimensions, evolve to approximate that taught by Buddha, and together constitute Buddhism’s wisdom. Samadhi, in this context, can be thought of as the beginning of wisdom, the reformation of our normal view and thought. Samadhi is a Sanskrit word that means, literally, to “establish, make firm.” It is important enough to quote at length from the somewhat technical definition: Collectedness of the mind on a single object through (gradual) calming of mental activity. Samadhi is a nondualistic state of consciousness in which the consciousness of the experiencing “subject” becomes one with the experienced “object”—thus is only experiential content. This state of consciousness is often referred to as “one-pointedness of mind”; this expression, however, is misleading because it calls up the image of “concentration” on one point on which the mind is “directed.” However, Samadhi is neither a straining concentration on one point, nor is the mind directed from here (subject) to there (object), which would be a dualistic mode of experience.

The emphasis on a single object, and the explanation that Samadhi is, actually, not concentration on one point, is apparently contradictory. But the “experienced ‘object’” is other in the general sense; not a specific object, person, or even a teaching. The determinative barrier to Samadhi, in other words, is a fundamental error of consciousness, a misperception that reality is bifurcated into self and other. This learned error, the duality of self and other, body and mind, can be overcome, unlearned, in zazen. A newborn baby, lying in its crib, has no perception of a self separate from the crib. Nor does its mind separate Mom from the background of the room. This is, again, Freud’s “oceanic awareness,” mentioned in Basics of Buddhism. For us, as adults, it represents reentry into the dynamic consciousness of living Zen, but with the maturity lacking in an infant. The learned bifurcation eventually becomes ephemeral, evaporating into a deeper awareness of non-duality. There may be logical ways to frame this experience, but the experience, itself, is beyond logic. The dictionary goes on to explain that there are two classes of Samadhi, those considered supramundane, versus worldly Samadhi. The differences involve more detail than needed here, but they serve to illustrate that the type of worldly Samadhi under discussion, is just the tip of the Samadhi iceberg. It is more massive than we know. Samadhi is something that we can sense, and work on developing; whereas spiritual awakening, a primordial change of state, is inconceivable. Insight is not subject to our will, or even accessible to our intent. But it is nurtured by absorption in Samadhi. The meaning of Buddhist awakening can be suggested, by analogy, to awaking from sleep, as we do every morning. We know the difference, between that kind of awakening, and the prior state of sleep. Buddhism propounds that, in a similar sense, we are all still asleep, sleepwalking, in effect; and can also wake up, from this dream-like state. If and when we do, we will definitely know it, just as we know the difference between sleeping, and ordinary awakening. These are the things we can work on directly, and measure, to some degree, as to progress. We at least can know, for sure, that we don’t know, what we need to know. We cannot work, directly, on Buddhist awakening, however, which has to come about of its own, like a change of state from liquid to solid, or to gas, or vice-versa. But we can certainly work on Samadhi.

PROGRESSIVE SAMADHI One way to understand Samadhi, and its natural progress, is to begin with visualizing a virtual point (J. tanden), in the bottom of the abdomen, a couple of inches down, and in, from the navel. It is the area that generates stomach power (J. hara), and the source-point for the vital life-force energy (J. ki, Ch. Chi). This is the body’s center of gravity, when sitting upright, as well as when moving. The tanden is the point, around which a ballerina rotates; the center, that a long-distance runner strives to keep level, to avoid wasted up-and-down motion; and the source, out of which a martial artist directs power. When sitting, the weight of the body falls to this point, the pit of the pelvis. Like the sand in the bottom of a sand doll, it provides ballast. Push the doll over, it pops right back up. Over time, Samadhi, starting from the tanden, which, as a point, by definition has no dimension; grows stronger as meditation deepens, like exercising a muscle. Visualizing the point as a tiny sphere, with practice it grows to the size of, say, a single buckshot; a bee-bee; then a marble; a golf ball; baseball; softball; volleyball; basketball; a beach ball; et cetera. The sphere of Samadhi expands, until it reaches such a size, that it is outside the body, and we are inside of it. But the center point is still at our tanden. This has nothing to do with the size of your belly, like that of Hotei, the familiar laughing Buddha. Nor is it limited by our body size. A physically smaller person may actually have greater Samadhi, than a larger opponent. Sitting, walking, standing, or lying down, we then remain always inside the sphere of Samadhi, whether in stillness, or in motion. This is called the centering principle in the martial arts, and represents dynamic balance, in Zen. Zazen is limited to the sitting posture, by definition, but the effect of Zen is not. The locus of the mind is in the stomach or gut, not in the head. And this center goes with you, when you leave the cushion. According to the theory of centering, one person’s well-developed Samadhi-sphere can subsume that of others, including opponents, and thus help defeat them in combat. In the martial arts, the Samadhi of action, that required while engaged in combat, is said to be a hundred, a thousand, a million times better than the Samadhi of repose, that developed in Zen meditation. However, it seems difficult, if not impossible, to develop the Samadhi of action, without developing the Samadhi of repose. Samadhi, which feels like self-confidence, can improve performance in other areas, such as public speaking, performance arts, and in persuading others to a cause. This is because it enhances confidence, or personal power (J. joriki), in a direct way. This charismatic aspect, an almost tangible gravitas, can, of course, be harnessed to nefarious purposes, as the actions of charismatic political leaders often attest. However, it is unlikely that an individual, who has the humility, and persistence, to stick with zazen, long enough to develop significant samadhi, will harbor the kind of intent that leads to misuse or abuse of others. When zazen becomes comfortable, beyond the initial pain and resistance; when physical Samadhi has finally set in firmly, allowing us to sit deeply still, for significant periods of time; mental and emotional Samadhi are bound to follow. It is like the aforementioned cart tethered to the ox; the cart has no choice, but to follow in the footsteps of the ox. And the ox cannot get free of the cart. Mental clarity, and emotional stability, arise from the newfound physical stability. Mind and body are just one, in Zen. They cannot separate. Samadhi naturally begins with the body. From the singular zone of deep Samadhi, sudden insight may emerge. But an attachment to the idea of awakening (J. satori), can become a barrier to complete Samadhi, which is foundational to satori. Again, in Soto Zen, we do not sit in meditation in order to become enlightened. By the time one experiences deep Samadhi, and any insight stemming from it, all such imaginary objectives have, long ago, fallen away. Eschewing attachment, to the idea of awakening, does not deny the reality of it. It is simply a reminder, of the tenacity of the monkey mind; a cautionary tale, based on experience. Master Dogen cautioned, “give up even the idea of becoming a buddha.” Even in the deepest, or highest, states of awareness engendered in zazen, the grasping nature of this mind is still operative, if only on a subliminal level. But it cannot, ultimately, prevent our awakening to the experience of Buddhist truth, which is, according to Zen, our birthright. Discovering this natural state of Samadhi, which again, is not correctly a state, but rather the dynamic nature of living mind, held in abeyance, and its awakening into kensho, seeing the nature, can be an overwhelming experience, emotionally. It is often accompanied by a profound sense of relief. It has the quality of returning home, rediscovering something familiar. Zen practitioners often experience outbursts of uncontrollable tears, laughter, or both: “laughing and crying you know it’s the same release.” But when we feels this sense of joy, accompanied by mental clarity, and a feeling of complete wellness, or wholeness, physically, mentally and emotionally; it is important to remember that this, too, is impermanent, the permanent attribute of Buddhism’s truth. Ecstatic experiences, while undeniable, are subject to the same, temporary nature, as all mundane experience. The ups and downs, on the rollercoaster of life, may not be flattened out by insight, no matter how unsurpassed, profound, and wondrous it may be. But our hyper-reactivity, to the slings and arrows of our fate, can be mitigated. We get off the roller-coaster, at the same spot we get on; the highs and lows are evened out. The more we practice zazen, the more we come to embrace adversity with more equanimity, and to meet life’s ambiguity with a dose of serenity, and humor. Such effects should not become another object of desire, however. Life is the tightrope we walk; zazen is our balancing pole.

This chapter analyzes how Zen works, primarily through the irreducible simplicity of its meditation, zazen; via a process that is holistically physical, mental and emotional; and therefore, spiritual. The point is not to promote Zen, at the expense of other meditative practices, as if they are in competition. It is, instead, to clarify the specific techniques, and effects, of zazen, as distinct from others. You are invited to freely compare, and contrast, the Zen approach, with whatever alternate methods you may have encountered. But it should be restated that the experience of Zen can be found only in the practice of zazen, not in reading about it. And, not necessarily, in other forms of meditation. Samadhi, for example, makes little or no sense on a conceptual, descriptive level. It must be experienced, to have any real meaning. Samadhi is both a part of the method of zazen, a major component of how it works; and at the same time, a seminal effect of zazen. This latter aspect of Samadhi, as an effect of sitting still enough, for long enough; will be explored in the following chapter, the fourth, and last, of the Present. (Quotes to come)

D. BENEFITS OF ZEN

This chapter wraps up the Present section, going into further detail on zazen, with particular emphasis on its effects, as benefits to life, health and happiness. Beginning with the concept of Samadhi, introduced in the prior chapter, we will examine its effects on the physical, mental and emotional planes. Then, we will take a closer look at the senses, and the effect upon perception, brought about through zazen, including its effect on the thinking process. We will conclude by examining how some of our fundamental conceptions, or misconceptions, of realty, such as those of space and time, may be altered in the process. The overriding result, is that our paradigm for reality shifts. But rather than replacing one concept of reality with another, zazen opens the mind to the primordial mystery of existence.

BENEFITS OF ZAZEN The benefits of Zen practice begin with those associated with zazen, and end…well, they may never actually end, to all practical purposes. The innumerable sutras, and commentaries, extolling the virtues of Buddhism, the Buddhist Precepts, and its compassionate way of life; all come from zazen. Buddhism began, historically, with Buddha’s meditation; in Japanese, zazen. What does it mean, after all, to say that Zen works? We benefit from Zen because its method, zazen, works. Sitting in upright meditation comprises most of the work associated with Zen. And it is impossible to meaningfully discuss the philosophical, and practical, implications of Zen, without reference to zazen. This is because the philosophy of Zen Buddhism is derived, primarily, from direct experience in zazen, and only secondarily, from analysis and scripture. Zazen is the well to which all practitioners return, to quench their thirst for the living dharma; to refresh their commitment; and to confirm any insights they may have, into the meaning of Zen in daily life. Zazen reveals the true meaning of Zen, by enabling our direct spiritual experience. But, of course, there is much more to Zen than just sitting. Zen Buddhism reveres the Three Treasures of Buddhism: Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. It prescribes a balanced approach to life, maintaining a positive relationship to the community, or sangha; studying the teachings, and their meaning, or dharma; and above all, practicing meditation itself, to reveal our own buddha nature. Meditation may be thought of as buddha-practice, study, as dharma-practice, and community service, as sangha-practice. How Zen works, in our life, is demonstrated by the effects, that the combined practice of meditation, study, and participation in community, have on our worldview, behavior, and happiness. Zen works, because not practicing it, doesn’t. This is not to claim that Zen is the only path to enlightenment or awakening; but that any path that works, is bound to have, at its core, the essence of Zen. Any differences, in the effectiveness of method, would be found on the level of form; revealed to be trivial, on thorough examination; or reducible to semantics. Zen claims to transmit the essential experience of Shakyamuni Buddha, from teacher to student, through face-to-face transmission, down through the ancestral lineage, to today. The transformational effect of zazen—insight into the true condition of existence—is deemed to be the central spiritual experience, available to all humankind, no matter the practice that brings it about. In this view, the personal experience of spiritual truth, would have to be the same, for a Christian, a Zen adept, or a scientist. How could it be fundamentally different? Most forms of meditative practice are probably transformative, to some degree, if pursued diligently enough. But Zen claims a complete, thoroughgoing transformation, as the long-term effect of zazen. We need only sit still enough, long enough. It is just that simple. Human beings are the source of complexity, not Zen. The traditional practice of zazen, with all its historical and cultural trappings, comes down to a great deal of simply sitting still. Zen does not argue a causal role for zazen, that it causes awakening, as we have seen. But it does set the stage for insight, by providing the method, by which we can relinquish our usual ways of knowing and thinking, and understanding the business of being. Zazen unleashes transformative energy, like re-charging a battery. Yet it changes nothing, actually.

SAMADHI AS EFFECT Samadhi is both central to the method of zazen, as covered in the last chapter, and a direct effect of zazen. As an effect, it manifests as a state of centered balance, for lack of a better phrase. Samadhi is considered the primary effect of zazen, of which all others may be regarded as subsets. One caveat: Awakening, itself, cannot be considered an effect, either of zazen, or Samadhi. The many benefits of zazen include an ability to meet, head-on, the many contradictions in life that create conflict, and command our attention. This effect, of centering, or balance, carries over into daily activities, making sense of the idea that anyone might be able to live a Zen life. Without becoming a monk, that is. Becoming more balanced, more measured in our reactivity, fosters a positive frame of mind, and energizes our daily activities. The specificity of effect depends upon each person’s attitude, a well as the intensity of their own Zen practice. Awareness of any effects changes, as the nature of zazen changes, over time. For example, the initial impression of novelty wears off quickly, and may never return. Noticeable calmness, and collectedness, may diminish, then return, with changes in stages of life. Over the course of a lifetime, from adolescence to being a student, marriage, raising children, divorce, retirement, assisted living, and so on, and on into aging and death, the benefits of Zen adapt to circumstances. Balance also relates to the many roles we play, at home, at work, and at play. These roles, and the responsibilities they incur, often pull us in many different directions. This can cause us to see our lives as a cluster of competing and conflicting demands, needs, and desires. When circumstances conspire, we may find ourselves trapped, with little or no wiggle room, certainly no escape. Samadhi, experienced on the cushion during our timeout from all the sturm and drang of daily melodrama, accompanies us when we return to the fray. It doesn’t go away, simply because we suspend zazen. Samadhi is independent of circumstance, including zazen’s posture, though it is more pronounced, when sitting upright and still. An American Zen teacher spoke of this as foreground, and background, mind. The foreground may be highly erratic, even frenetic, while the background is calm. My teacher said that the Zen mind is calm, but capable of great action. He illustrated this with the example of driving off the highway at full speed, managing to miss all the trees and come safely to a stop. This, he said, is the Zen mind in action. It is not dependent upon calm circumstances. The Zen mind is not always calm. But intermittent, surface disturbances are set against an overall equanimity, like a deep current underlying the surface of a babbling brook.

Samadhi is a central idea, in Zen, usually defined as both a balanced, and concentrated, state. But, this kind of concentration, is not only mental, an intentional focus of attention on one object, while ignoring all else. Chemistry’s super-saturated solution, mentioned above—so concentrated that the addition of a single crystal causes an instantaneous change of state, from liquid to solid—is an apt metaphor. This kind of concentration matures on a subtle, subliminal level over time, like fruit ripening. When the fruit is ripe it falls from the tree naturally, of its own. Of course, a strong wind may come along and blow it off at an earlier stage. This is analogous to the role of the teacher, or, sometimes, nature, in triggering a spiritual insight. But the teacher does not cause the student’s insight to occur, any more than does zazen, or Samadhi, directly. The development of Samadhi may be regarded as directly attributable to zazen. It is Zen’s greatest benefit, as it sets the stage for profound insight. However, insight, if and when it occurs, cannot be connected to any single cause, including Samadhi, itself. Neither zazen, nor its Samadhi, should be regarded as a cause, the effect of which is insight. Better to regard zazen Samadhi as a necessary condition, like the soil, water and sunshine, that are necessary for the healthy growth of a garden. Buddhism’s insight may be likened to complete, psychic health. Whereas physical disease may be diagnosed as related to a single source, or a complex of disorders, total health cannot be attributed to any one, identifiable cause. Health is the outgrowth of all causes and conditions of life, taken together. Similarly, Buddhist awakening cannot be attributed, by linear logic, to zazen, or its overriding effect, Samadhi. But the diligent practice of zazen can develop innate Samadhi, which, along with the altruistic vow to save all others, establishes the basis for great awakening. It is like music. Practice, in the sense of rehearsal, is not the single cause, of a pianist being able to produce great music; but a necessary platform, for the music to emerge. When the practice of the student musician, dancer, or artist, matures, a turning point is reached. What, heretofore, was simply rote rehearsal, motor-muscle-memory, or hand-to-eye coordination, suddenly transforms, becoming real music, art, or dance; for the first time. The definition of Samadhi, as effect, points to an intimate experience; intimate in the sense of immediacy in time, as well as closeness in space. The apparent boundary, between subject and object, wears away; leaving an experience of awareness that is only experiential, not conceptual, nor even perceptual. The content of awareness is not divided, even into the simple, and conventionally-assumed- to-be-intrinsic, duality of self and other. This may smack of mere intellectual realization. But we have a great deal of emotional investment, in our personal reality of self-versus-other. When the I that thinks, therefore I am; begins to disintegrate, it can be an unnerving experience. Who, or what, is disintegrating? The emotional tenor of the mind will level out, in zazen, even at this dire strait. Repeatedly confronting uncertainty, renders us more certain. From the development of physical balance, follows mental balance, along with emotional balance. One can say that there is Samadhi of the body, physical Samadhi; Samadhi of the mind, mental Samadhi; and Samadhi of the heart, emotional Samadhi. Of course, these three cannot actually be separated; and when they come together, this is the real Samadhi. However, Samadhi’s deeper meaning may be clarified a bit further, by looking at its functioning, on these three distinct, if not entirely separate, levels: the physical, mental and emotional. Physical (Body) Samadhi Physical Samadhi cannot be separated from the other dimensions, but it is where we start. Zazen triggers immediate reactions, such as resistance in the joints, which often becomes painful for the legs, back, and shoulders. Sitting for extended, and repeated, periods of time, the body slowly adapts to the upright posture. Tendons and muscles gradually stretch, but zazen should not be understood as a form of relaxation. As the posture approaches equilibrium, tone distributes evenly throughout the body’s musculature, and its connections to the bones. The skeleton comes to float in the muscle mass, with tensional forces on both sides of each bone, in stable balance. It becomes comfortable. Relatively speaking. This is a condition of complete, fluid balance overall, in which no muscle is completely relaxed. For a set of muscles to be completely relaxed, the opposing muscle sets have to be in higher tension, and so, by definition, cannot be relaxed. When physical effort is thus distributed equally throughout the body, it becomes effortless, or as close as the body can come to effortlessness, while alive. The effort to sit still shifts, subtly, on the spectrum of motion, from the gross scale of muscles working against bones, to the subtle scale of the body’s cells, floating in gravity. This shift comes about through adaptation, to the increasing stillness of the body, in its relation to the field of gravity. This is an example of motion in stillness (J. mokurai). Because the body is sitting upright, with the spine in its natural S-curve, the upper body weight distributes evenly, around the spine. The arms and tissue of the upper body also drape around the spine, like sails hanging from the mast of a ship, floating in the doldrums. The weight of the head balances perfectly on the neck, with compensating tension in the muscles at the back of the neck, stretching upward, with the chin pulled slightly in, and down. It is rather like the dynamic curve of a cobra, lifting off the ground, to the music of the snake-charmer’s flute. The body mass comes into delicate, precise balance, with the forces of gravity. When the body-mass comes to center in this manner, it feels effortless, but dynamic. It floats, as in zero-gravity. This effect is similar to one reported by the few survivors of avalanches, while skiing. If you are unfortunate enough to get caught in a snow avalanche, there is a set of survivors’ desperate instructions, on how to dig yourself out. Blowing your breath, on the snow in front of your face, will cause it to melt; observing the direction the snow melt runs, indicates the direction of down, which cannot be felt. You then know to dig in the opposite direction, up, before the snow melts from body heat, refreezes, and you are encased in ice, followed quickly by suffocation. Those who have been lucky enough to have survived such a panicky, claustrophobic situation, report that as the avalanche hits, you are instantly surrounded by fine, powdered snow. It fills every void around your body, like ultra-fine, microscopic foam peanuts, packed around a product for shipping. In an instant, you are trapped, and can feel no gravity. Thus, there is no way to tell up, from down. This is similar to the effect of zazen, but of course, it takes much longer to set in. The vector of gravity exerts a cumulative force, downward, from the crown of the head, to the sitting bones, two protuberances, on the bottom of the pelvis. Unrelenting and unmoving pressure, on the buttocks, naturally results in discomfort, sometimes, sciatica-like pain; but then numbing sets in. The legs fall asleep, as well, but this is not a symptom of poor circulation. Eventually, the numbness spreads, resulting in unification of the base triangle of the posture, the two knees and the rump. It feels like heat, or fire—like sitting in an ocean of hot water—up to the navel. The sitting bones look, a bit, like the two prongs of a standard, electric plug. And, indeed, sitting in Zen seems to be analogous to plugging into a socket. The energy that fills the body is like a slow, gentle, low-voltage charge. In Zen, and the martial arts, this energy is called ki, or chi. It is the life-force, and seems to emanate from the pit of the stomach, in the center of the pelvis. The whole body becomes unified, in one feeling, one effort. It is not static, but a pulsating field of energy, alive- feeling. It is a real buzz, one that exceeds that coming from drugs, caffeine, or alcohol. Eventually, the whole body is abuzz, with sensation. The resistance, and blockage, that result in pain in the legs, knees and back, and concomitant mental discomfort; are washed away in the flood of energy. The breath amplifies, and fuels the energy, like a bellows fanning a furnace fire, in the pit of the stomach. The physical effects of zazen’s meditation posture will manifest, to a degree, from any form of sitting; as long as the head, neck and spine are upright. The traditional cross-legged and kneeling postures provide a more stable base, than sitting on a chair, with both feet on the floor. But even a person in a wheelchair can benefit from upright sitting. The other three cardinal postures: standing, walking, and lying down; are considered to be not as effective as the sitting posture, for meditation. They do not facilitate as quick and complete an absorption in Samadhi. But the beneficial effects associated with zazen, should be accessible, even to the bed-ridden; especially if they have practiced zazen, at some time in their life.

Mental (Mind) Samadhi Mental Samadhi represents the resolution of all dualistic opposites, including those characterized as conflicting. They are mostly conceptual in nature. A capacity for undivided attention is part of the effect of Samadhi. It runs directly counter to attention deficit disorder, an affliction endemic to today’s culture of distraction and diversion, and not only for children. Zen’s monkey mind is the active, discriminating mind, or thinking mind (citta). This, the mind of “I think, therefore I am (Cogito ergo sum),” is the willful aspect of mentality, oriented to survival. It is hard-wired into the nervous system, and brain. To stop thinking the way the monkey mind thinks, is not simply a matter of choice. This is a profoundly tenacious, even insidious, dimension of human consciousness. Like a bulldog clinging to a piece of raw meat, it won’t let go, without considerable persuasion. Citta is also referred to as the clinging mind. It clings to cherished opinions—of who and what we are; the way we should be; and further, the way that the world should be—to conform to its expectations, and desires. It clings to self-centered notions of reality, of what it is. It also harbors opinions of other people: what they are; what they should be; and how they should behave. It insists upon its worldview, in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Speaking of it as an “it,” distances the identity of our true self, from the monkey. Gaining some distance from the notion of who and what I am, and the way I usually think, know, and behave, facilitates a realistic perspective, on what the self is, in actuality. It encourages neutral observation, of our own behavior, and thinking. These traits are conditioned: by survival desires, that are largely unconscious; as well as more conscious, desires of the acquisitive type. The monkey mind is tainted, both by bias in favor of the self; and by ignorance, avoidance, and confusion, about the true condition of existence. The thinking mind must be seen through, in zazen. Its limitations must be recognized and abandoned, in the quest for deeper wisdom, innate to the mind (bodhi). Thinking is not exactly the enemy of Samadhi, or of wisdom mind (bodhicitta), but may not be much help, either. One old saying is, “Baskets and cages can not reach it.” That is, concepts and constructions, however complex and elegant, cannot capture the ineffable reality. When the discriminating mind finally takes a break, bodhi-mind, innate intuition or wisdom, can finally come to the fore. More mental clarity, less confusion, more understanding of Buddhism’s reality; these are the hallmarks of the transformation to mental Samadhi. This transformation may be experienced as a kind of eureka moment, or seeing the nature (J. kensho); an insight; small or great, sudden or gradual. But when we over-react, to this very change in awareness, the monkey mind immediately reasserts itself. When that discriminating thought arises, for that moment, we lose our natural buddha- mind. Like a wet bar of soap, it slips out of our grasp, with the slightest squeeze of dualistic thinking. So this process must be repeated again and again, until the new quality of bodhi-mind has been established, as the new normal, for us. This new state of mind, which, again, is not technically a state, can become predominant, eventually. But it is not only mental, not solely an intellectual way of knowing. It also engages the emotions—the heart, or gut.

Emotional (Heart) Samadhi Emotional Samadhi is the most difficult to accede to, as it requires going through the entire gamut of emotions, on and off the cushion. The floodgates open, with no clear connection between the feelings and their source. Again, mind, in Zen (J. shin), includes the heart as well as the brain. We cannot separate the emotions from the intellect. The mental clarity that comes with zazen, is part and parcel of the emotional calm that ensues. Both are linked to the physical, through zazen’s physical posture. And we revisit all three, spiraling through, to deeper levels. The emotions cannot be separated from mentation, nor from the ideas that flow from it. Our worldview, and ideas, are colored by emotion. Likewise, emotions cannot be separated from the physical body. A being is one whole being, in Zen. The scattered self becomes whole, through Zen meditation, when the meditation becomes whole-hearted. The benefits that come to us through zazen are real, and we naturally want to share them with others. This is part of the opening of the heart of compassion. We see the suffering of others as painfully as we see our own. Naturally, we would like to help them get beyond it. But we don’t want to go off half-cocked. Saving others begins with saving the self, which takes time. Buddhism posits that by confronting the central questions of existence, dis-ease of all sorts can be cured, on a very profound and comprehensive level. That is, unhealthy reactions to the natural ailments of existence can be significantly mitigated. By awakening to the truth of the conditions of existence as a human being, we can see the true source of unhappiness and anger, within ourselves as well as within others. Seeing its true source, we can be liberated. Not from unhappiness as such, but in the midst of it, in spite of it. Zen is good for what ails you—no matter what it is.

MAKING SENSE In zazen, sensory perception tends to sharpen early on. We become acutely aware of image, sound and feeling, sometimes standing out in stark, painful relief. This is accompanied by heightened feelings of anxiety and discomfort, results of the spiking reactivity of the mind. Sensory adaptation, “the diminishing response of a sense organ to a sustained stimulus,” comes about through the repetition of zazen. It is the sameness, the constancy, of zazen in the midst of our changing life, that gives it its power. In all circumstances, sitting in zazen provides an anchor in a sea of chaos. We naturally sink deeper and deeper into Samadhi, a profound de-conditioning. Zazen transcends sensory data, counter-intuitively through a process of sensory immersion, in which our experience of the senses, under intense scrutiny, neutralizes, greys out. The neutral state of Samadhi sets the stage for a renewed experience, and idea, of the self, prompting a fresh view of existence. Sinking into Samadhi physically, mentally and emotionally establishes the platform for awakening, known as kensho, mentioned above. Kensho cannot be separated from Samadhi, any more than the two poles of a magnetic field can be separated. But again, the relationship is not strictly causal. Samadhi is necessary, but not sufficient, for kensho to occur. The experience of insight is not one that can be caused intentionally. As is often said in Zen, everything changes. With persistence, the initial friction and stress of zazen practice gradually abates, and we enter into a kind of boundary awareness. This may be thought of as the initial dharma-gate of Samadhi. The key to opening the gate is gradual withdrawal from the senses. This process is not one of losing consciousness, however, but one in which sensory response is, less and less, a case of ordinary perception, more and more a neutralization of sensory stimuli. On the other side of the gate is found a different world, but one not at all separate from the present world. The sides of this gate are not-two, like magnetic poles. One set of entrances, to the dharma-gate, are the six senses of Buddhism. With enough zazen, they begin to open up new vistas.

Seeing: Eyes & Form Seeing, again, is the most refined of the senses, the source of most of our incoming information. Usually, the eyes move constantly, from object to object, in the field of vision, or from feature to feature, within an object. They are engaged in subtle, rapid and irregular movements called saccades. Fixing the gaze, as we are instructed in zazen, coaxes the gross movements down to a minimum, in harmony with deep breathing. Facing a blank wall, in a setting of moderate light, minimizes visual distraction. Of course, no wall is entirely blank, as we soon discover. The wall, with its bottom border, at the edge of the bench or floor, and other features above, or to the left and right, is relatively unchanging. But vision itself is not at all unchanging. Areas of contrast, relative light and dark, differences in hue, or brightness, begin to fluctuate, to radiate. Boundaries between areas manifest the after-image effect. Bright light shimmers at the borders, reflecting slight shifts in the gaze. Where very bright overlaps very dark, the radiance is greatest. Where color is perceived, the opposite hue on the light spectrum appears as the after-image. Their overlay grays out, much like paint colors when mixed. If you suddenly shift your gaze, a complete and powerful after-image moves with it. We see the immediate past, lingering as an overlay on the present, slowly fading away. Sitting still, we are immersed in a different level of movement, sensing a subtle, fine motion in the field of vision, when the gaze becomes fixed. The more still the sitting, the more the motion in the stillness. The after-image effect sparks electric light and color impressions, in the retinal field. The fluid motion of the eyes, and soft, chemical excretions of the retina, register in awareness. Motion, light, colors, forms and shapes, monstrous faces, often appear “in the wall.” That is, somewhere in the space in front of our sitting position, things that are “not there” appear. This is sometimes referred to as makyo, illusion. Some might regard it as hallucination, but it is best not to make judgments about it. It may be the beginning of awakening. Or, we might regard it as the natural result of maintaining a fixed gaze upon a neutral wall. The organic form, of the overlapping retinal circus of the eyeballs, innumerable cones and cylinders, begins to register. As the gaze settles into a more intense fixity, vivid after-image effects diminish, as the eyes are shifting less. There is a frequency of involuntary motion that continues, which is ordinarily subliminal, though it can be sensed when sitting very still. The field of vision becomes unified. Of course, the binocular structure of vision, comprised of left and right eyes, can still be distinguished, as can a middle, 3-dimensional area of overlap, “between the noses,” so to speak. Gradually, the sight adapts more completely, eventually graying out, neutralizing differences between contrasting areas in the peripheral and central vision. Peripheral and central areas unite, in a large, oval-shaped field, surrounded by blackness outside the extreme periphery. The center begins to grey out, the field to flatten out. Larger areas within the field, and seemingly transcending its borders, oscillate from light to dark, and dark to light. They average out overall, becoming internally luminous. A kind of rotating, refresh-rate sweeps the field, somewhat like a radar screen. Radial pulsations of intensely colored light, moving alternately outward and inward like an animated nimbus, recall the flaming halo seen in Buddhist iconography. Here may be the source of a comment Master Dogen made, that we should “investigate thoroughly whether the universe is radiating outwardly, or inwardly.” Seeing, itself, then, changes. Eventually, we simply see, with no object of seeing. Seeing sees seeing itself. We begin to understand heretofore mysterious Zen expressions, such as:

In the light there is darkness but do not take it as darkness In the dark there is light but do not see it as light Light and dark oppose one another like the front and back foot in walking

Seeing becomes directly seeing the inner radiance of Mind, independent of ordinary light, against a darkness as deep as outer space. Dark and light become inseparable. We see no separation of inner and outer, self and other, body and mind. It is mokurai all over again.

Hearing: Ears & Sound Hearing is considered the most accessible of the senses to unraveling, the necessary prerequisite to transcending the normal intoxication of the senses. Buddha likened the senses to six knots in a silk scarf, as we have seen, a scarf that he charged his disciples to untie. Hearing is perhaps the most spatial of the senses, in that it has no distinct boundary, between inside and outside. The two become one. hearing is less tangible than the other senses. We cannot find beginning or end. Sensitivity of hearing increases during zazen. It seems to expand in scope, bringing attention to higher, and lower, frequencies than usual. The sense of sound gradually adapts to the quiet of the environment; internal sounds becoming more prominent, external sounds from greater distances, more clear. We become highly attuned to subtle sounds in the environment, including ambient external sources, such as wind in the trees, or rain; distant bird calls and traffic; as well as internal sources, such as our own breathing and heartbeat; electrical activity of the brain; blood ciculating. Sounds to which we are normally numb, become part of the range of hearing. External sounds can be very distracting, and can test our patience, especially the sounds of voices. If we can understand what a human voice is saying, it can be very difficult to ignore. But eventually, even the human voice becomes just sound. It takes a certain amount of time, and effort, to interpret its meaning, and we settle into the space and time before that happens. The experience of pure sound, in the abstract (or concrete), can be unnerving. But it reveals the difference between reality, and our perception, or preconception, of it. In a typical, commonly reported experience, during meditation, one hears a familiar melody. “I can’t get it out of my head.” The individual notes of the melody that you cannot get out of your head, if listened to intently, are found to be actual sounds that you are hearing, not imagining. Taken together, rather than in melodic sequence, they sound a grand, dissonant, pulsating chord. It is as if the brain is chock full of electronic sound-emitting devices. The brain naturally attempts to create order out of chaos, and so attends to the various pitches in a familiar sequence, resulting in “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” And drives you crazy, in the process. People conventionally associate Zen meditation with sitting in silence. And to the degree practicable, Zen centers maintain silence. But silence in Zen is not the opposite of sound. In Zen there is no separation of sound and silence. The entire field of sound becomes unified, and is itself set against a deeper background of silence, permeating all space. The sound and the silence are clearly co-arisen: sound is in silence; silence is in sound. The silence in Zen is not the absence of sound. Silence is inseparable from sound. Likewise, sound is inseparable from silence. Mokurai again. Hearing becomes a deep listening, to the universal music of silence-sound itself, the sound of a “hammer striking emptiness,” the universe continually chanting the sutras.

Smelling: Nose & Scent Smelling quickly adapts, given a constant ambient atmosphere. The zendo usually does not provide changing aromas, more often a constant overlay of incense. Smell is largely chemical; small volatile molecules, suspended in the air stream, perfectly fit to specific receptors in the nasal membrane, like microscopic Chinese puzzles. Or space modules, docking. Smell is said to be the sense most closely associated with memory. Perhaps this connection lends to its ease of unraveling. It is thought to be an ancient sense, of early evolution, by which primitive human beings sensed danger, or safety. Responses to odor reportedly go directly to the brain’s olfactory cortex, which is embedded in the same area as emotions and memories. Occasionally, subtle hints of aromas trigger vivid, lucid memories of times past. This is certainly true of certain familiar blends of incense, for example, as it is of grandma’s cooking, or grandpa’s pipe tobacco. Most Zen centers burn incense before, or while, sitting. This has the benefit of establishing continuity from session to session, and can be helpful in conditioning the mind to settle more quickly, through familiarity. However, these days, owing to much greater sensitivity to the environment, heightened pollution, and awareness of respiratory diseases, incense is falling into more limited use, and even into disfavor. Especially in virtually airtight buildings. With a consistent fragrance of incense, or if the air is fresh, with no cooking or other source of changing odors present, the olfactory sense quickly adapts. Taste and smell share this trait. However, unlike taste, smell resides in the continuing cycle of the breath, inhaling and exhaling, so with each in breath, the smell receptors are exposed to a slightly different cocktail. In the depths of Samadhi, each breath smells slightly different from the one before, or after. Smelling soon becomes neutral, however, through adaptation. We enjoy the subtle perfume of emptiness. No incense necessary. To the enlightened, all odors are perfumes.

Tasting: Tongue & Flavor Tasting, like smell, is largely based on chemical reaction, but liquid rather than gaseous, thus somewhat grosser, in the technical sense. Individuals have widely differing sensitivity to taste, depending on the array of taste buds on the tongue. The same seems to be true of smell, where it may depend upon the number, and accessibility, of the aforementioned receptors. The two, smell and taste, are tightly interwoven, as we experience when we suffer from a head cold, or other smell-restricting congestion. Also like smell, taste adapts quickly, in a context of unchanging stimuli. becomes neutralized, much as a chemical solution becomes neutral, through the balancing of acid and base components. Continuous, constant taste becomes no-taste, much as aroma becomes no-aroma. Taste adapts perhaps the most quickly of all the senses. We do not eat or drink anything while sitting in zazen. There is a subtle taste that is not dependent on food or drink. The ambient taste of saliva, left-over chemistry from meals, or toothpaste and mouthwash, and the effluent of hundreds of organisms that inhabit the mouth. But these are, thankfully, subliminal. In deep meditation, awareness heightens, so we may notice subtle of changes of flavor; perhaps related to body chemistry; digestion; even reactions to changes in aroma. These are, thankfully, temporary. Tasting, eventually, reveals the fine flavor of emptiness. Like the flavor of pure water: taste tasting taste, itself. The tastelessness of Zen. In the physiological sense. Touching: Skin, Muscle and Bones Touching is at once the most down-to-earth of the senses, and at the same time, the fuzziest. It responds to, and registers, a wide range of sensations, through the largest organ, the skin; as well as through the flesh and bone tissues throughout the body. Including simple contact; pressure; friction; temperature; weight. As well as painful and pleasurable feelings, throughout the above. Smell and taste adapt so quickly, especially in zazen, that they may as well be regarded as a part of the body, a form of touch, rather than as distinctly separate senses. They become minor impressions in the context of the three major sense-fields. Without smell, taste becomes mostly texture, tactility of the tongue. Thus, the complex of six senses can be reduced to three main fields—seeing, hearing, and feeling—as major arenas of conscious awareness. This simplifies our task of paying attention. Thinking is, then, the fourth area of attention. Our thinking can readily go off on a tangent, as in daydreaming, as all can attest. But it can be brought to heel, at least momentarily, by simply paying attention to one of the other three. As trains of thought arise that are distracting, turning to the senses— the feeling of the posture, including the breath; the field of vision; and deep listening—relieves the distraction, returning attention to the present reality. Thinking is not king. When the physical posture becomes profoundly balanced, sensory dislocation begins to set in, similar to that experienced when drifting off to sleep, or slowly waking up. Sometimes, lying in bed, our arms and legs feel as if they are in a certain position. But by concentrating, we can tell that they are actually arrayed differently. When we try to move an arm or a leg, it may feel immensely heavy. Or we start violently, as if tripping or stumbling, falling into a virtual vertigo. These experiences are characteristic of the half-awake, half-asleep hypnagogic and hypnopompic states; just before falling asleep, and just before waking fully, respectively. Zazen likewise enters into similar states of boundary awareness, but we resist the temptation to drift off into sleep. Sitting still enough, for long enough, the tactile sense of feeling changes, much like falling asleep, or waking from deep sleep. The body-sense adapts to the extreme stillness of the posture, in the same way that our skin’s sense of tactility adapts to the weight of clothing. Feeling fades into dim awareness, then fluctuates in and out of consciousness. Eventually, off-sensation, no-sensation, sets in. We float in and out of sensation, just as when falling asleep at night, or half-awake in the early morning. Falling sleep, the area of the brain that receives and recognizes motor impulses from the body shuts down, disconnecting from sense data received from the body. An internal switch is thrown, sometimes before losing consciousness. This is also true of zazen, but without loss of consciousness. I like to think of it as falling- asleep-staying-awake. In zazen, this transition, as a physical dislocation, is often described as a sense of floating. Psychically, it feels like entering a kind of trance. But it retains a keen edge. A traditional metaphor describes the ultimate state of Zen meditation as perching atop a hundred-foot pole, a very precarious place to be. But there is one more step to be taken. Touching then becomes the last toe-hold on the pole. Stepping off the hundred-foot pole, leaping into the abyss, we touch the sensation of emptiness, the emptiness of sensation.

Thinking: Brain & Concept Thinking is the most recalcitrant of the senses. To bring it to heel, we can, as suggested above, simply direct our attention to the breath, the body, the eyes, and the ears. But the monkey mind is not easily fooled, and will not be ignored. If we attempt to suppress it, it just reasserts itself. Like the ox in the famous Oxherding Pictures, it wants to wander off into greener pastures. As goes the body, so goes the mind. As mentioned above, Master Dogen also likened the two to an ox and the oxcart, terminally tethered together. To bring the ox, the mind, along, we must bring the cart, the body, to heel first. It is much easier, owing to the body’s ease of access. Let’s take a closer look at the monkey mind of Zen. We had a pet monkey in the house where I grew up, a cinnamon ringtail, so I know whereof I speak, when it comes to monkey-business. Like a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed monkey, jumping from limb to limb of the tree, our mind is always looking for something entertaining. The monkey quickly finds smell, and taste, not very entertaining, and so adapts to, or ignores, them. This leaves the simplified, tripartite model of sensory engagement introduced above. Thinking is extra. Thinking comes last in Zen, rather than occupying the primary position it generally enjoys in Western culture. Painful and pleasurable feelings in the arena of the body, fluctuating visions in the field of seeing, and the expanding universe of sound in the field of hearing; all command the attention of the monkey. They tend to take a bit longer, to become boring. And, of course, the creative side of the thinking mind, its ability to imagine in words and concepts—revisiting the past, planning for the future—can also be seductive, and entertaining. This is how most meditators—newbies and old-timers alike—spend most of their time, in the guise of zazen. The monkey enjoys ruminating over the past, like a cow chewing its cud. Thus the term, ruminant. It also enjoys planning the future, fantasizing. These activities are, of course, disconnected from the present moment on the cushion. Thinking is perhaps the most persistent of the senses. But thoughts are not, themselves, senses; they are the objects of the brain. Thinking, as a sense, is a function connected to the others, seeing, hearing, and feeling, which provide food for thought to the brain. But even when asleep, the mind conjures up striking images and events, vivid, sometimes even lucid, dreams. Conventionally, thinking is not considered a sense, but in the Buddhist model, it is. Thoughts, in the form of reactions to sense-data traffic, are the automatic output of the brain, just as sights, sounds, smells, tastes and feelings are the automatic signals of the other senses, in contact with their objects. Concepts are the perceived objects of the mind. Percepts are the result of the thinking mind’s receiving sense data. Interpretation of this data results in concepts, including even concepts about the senses themselves, such as under discussion here. It is a closed loop. Interpretation is influenced by conscious and unconscious, conditions. These conditioning influences, which unconsciously modify perception, are based on memories, or mental formations; impulses either hard-wired, or newly-minted. Eventually, sitting still enough for long enough, the ox becomes tame, and has no conflict with the cart. The monkey wears itself out, lies down to take a nap. This is when the intuitive mind can manifest. But only if we stay awake, and alert. Falling-asleep-staying-awake, everything else falls asleep, but awareness stays alert. We stay awake, like a night watchman. Again, following from progressively greater physical balance, greater mental and emotional balance emerges; the Samadhi of heart-mind. Mental balance means less discursive thought, less reliance on thought, to fend off anxiety, boredom, and other forms of pain. Pain—physical, mental, and emotional—stems, primarily, from our own resistance to it. By the time physical Samadhi sets in, when zazen has become the comfortable way, mental and emotional resistance have long since given way. Emotional balance means less extreme, reactive affect, to the ups-and-downs of the rollercoaster of life. This does not mean that the rollercoaster itself flattens out, of course. Zen meditation does not directly affect circumstances, to repeat. Over time, however, many report that it allows them to sort out priorities, and solve personal problems. This can affect our life situation in positive ways. But this is not the primary reason to live a Zen life. Human suffering often takes the form of double jeopardy, adding insult to injury. First, you experience suffering, but that’s not enough. You then go on to blame yourself, or others, for causing the suffering. But in the Buddhist view, most suffering simply comes with the territory. It is bad enough that we suffer. It is not necessary, or wise, to make things worse by punishing ourselves, or others, for unavoidable suffering. It is not totally our fault, nor theirs. This is another reason it is considered a good thing, that most people have physical difficulty, in the beginning of zazen. While working through the body’s natural stress and resistance, we gain some sense of progress. Meanwhile other, more intractable forms of emotional resistance, may work themselves out, on a subliminal level. In other words, when it comes to the progress of zazen, the worse it gets, the better it is, in a manner of speaking. Thinking, then, is not a bad thing in Zen, nor is it necessarily a good thing. It is neutral, though certain biases are built in. Naturally, the monkey brain has a difficult time wrapping itself around this concept. It is totally illogical. But the intuitive mind, Bodhi, does not operate on the level of logic, fortunately. Thinking ultimately becomes non-thinking, not relying on thought. Whether we are thinking, on the cushion, or not thinking, basically makes no difference. It makes more difference in daily life, of course, where we are so heavily dependent upon thinking. Eventually, in zazen, a thought-beyond- thought, may occur. The thought of emptiness, Buddha’s empty thought.

CONCEPTUAL Zen is often portrayed as anti-intellectual; as if it denigrates, suppresses, or at most, does not honor; the thinking mind. This misconception recognizes the strong emphasis in Zen on the intuitive, but misses the point that the Zen Mind is the whole mind, including the intuitive as well as the analytical. Zen practice is not thought of as conceptual activity, but it frees the mind to embrace ambiguous and abstract concepts, such as Buddhism’s emptiness. Two of the more familiar, but most abstract, concepts that the thinking mind has conceived, are those of time, and space. So familiar, in fact, that we do not even consider them concepts. They are important to the teachings of Zen Buddhism, though their place and meaning is different from that in conventional Western thinking. Einstein thought about these ideas a lot, and it is nearly impossible, for any thinking person to avoid coming to grips with their essentiality and ubiquity. It may be worthwhile to spend some time examining them, from the Zen perspective of direct experience. Zen’s practice of zazen, pursued diligently, directly, and dramatically, changes one’s apprehension of spacetime. An exploration of this effect follows.

Concept Time Someone once said that in zazen, the barriers of time and space fall away. One of the delightful surprises of zazen, is its effect upon our perception, and thus our conception, of time. Or, perhaps, it is time’s effect upon our perception. The skandha, or aggregate, called perception, or thought, includes conception, as we have seen. The two tend to get mixed up. Perception begets conception; conception begets perception. Not only do we think, therefore we exist; but what we think, is what we think exists. Nowhere is this truer, than in the perception and conception of time; and nowhere else is the effect of misperception, and misconception, of more importance to our view of reality. Time is, quite literally, of the essence in Zen. Humankind’s invention of measured time was a seminal discovery. It is necessary to all processes based on linear logic: the seasonality of agriculture; the assembly line of the industrial revolution; and the development of civilization in general. There is good reason why most town squares feature a clock tower. But at the same time, the hegemony of this idea—measured time—became a spiritual tragedy, as pointed out by D. T. Suzuki. People took it to be the way time actually is. Time thus became a commodity. It can, and must be, spent saved, paid for, not wasted, et cetera. Saddled with this idea of measured time, as the predominant paradigm, we can never settle into real time. Time that is not measured, not measurable. Personal time definitely seems to change, in zazen; in the present, and forever after. Perception of time changes, so our conception of time must also, eventually, change. This takes time, of course, owing to the persistence of the discriminating mind, in reinforcing its concept of reality, i.e. time. The monkey mind is stubborn, and understandably attached to the familiar. It may seem a strange idea, that the mind can act independently of the will. But Buddhism teaches that this discriminating mind imposes a false stillness on reality. This is an insidious side effect of the hegemony of Citta, driven by survival values. Impulse-driven conception overrides awareness, through a distortion of perception. It is a learned effect, one apparently not yet operative, in the infantile mind. In the infant’s mind, nothing is still; nothing is known as a separate entity. This false stillness develops naturally, along with the sense of self-versus-other, the process of individuation. It is imposed upon our spatial sense of self, of a being-in-space; also upon our temporal sense, of being-in-time. Note that he spatial being is a noun; the temporal, a verb. We think, for example, of the seasons. Spring becomes summer, summer turns into fall, fall to winter, and again, to spring. But spring is only spring. It does not turn into summer. Spring, like summer, fall and winter, are conditions, brought about with the changing positions of the Earth and the Sun. Because these positions seem relatively similar each year, spring seems to return, as do the other seasons; seasonally, as we say. But it is, in no wise, the same spring. Summer, as a concept, has distinctive attributes, only in comparison to other seasons. In the perceived differences, we conceive an entity called a season. In comparison to itself, winter is not winter; it is only what it is, in this present moment. Dogwoods dependably bloom with dogwood blossoms; azaleas do not flower with roses. They seem the same, each year. Their apparent repetitive nature is perceived—that is, conceived—in relative sameness. And so we conceive of the seasons. But, to belabor the obvious, there is actually no such thing, as a season. There is no such thing as spring to change into something called summer. There is only change, manifesting local conditions that are referred to as fall, or winter. No single bloom is the same as last year’s. The plants from which they emerge, are entirely different. Each plant is an event, perpetually in slow motion, relative to the observer. Eventually, the plant ceases to bloom; eventually, each plant dies. Change is what has occurred, and change is occurring constantly; in all seasons; in different parts of the globe. But of course, perception is, conceptually, limited to proximity. Nowadays, with climate change apparently a clear and present danger, our confidence, in our comfortable preconceptions of seasonality, may be severely tested, in the near future. What is true of the seasons, is true of millennia, centuries, decades, years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds, and moments. With our increasing exploration of interplanetary, and intergalactic, space, the arbitrary nature of earth-measured time is ever more obvious. As with the seasons, there is an apparent real moment of time, in the present moment. But the present is not actually established in comparison to another, contrasting aspect of time, the past or the future; though it may be conceptually. Real time is established relative to itself. Change is time; time is change. According to Master Dogen, in his brilliant essay, Uji, “Existence-time,” that is said to have anticipated Einstein’s Relativity in the 13th Century, “Time is already Existence, and all Existence is Time.” Being is change. People think of time, and the changing of time, in conceptual ways. These are actually concepts of time, not real time.

Real Time I make no claim to an understanding of time, from a scientific point of view; taking comfort in the probability that most scientists do not make any such claim, either. This kind of modesty, or humility, is a hallmark of science. The following discussion is offered with all due respect, to that profession; and apologies for the lack of scientific rigor. Its purpose is to challenge conventional wisdom, and to point attention away from conceptual, toward actual, time. We might argue that there is no duration of time, in time itself. If the present moment is discrete, and reduces to a vanishingly small, fundamental particle of time, the chronon; then time has no duration, for practical purposes. If the fundamental unit of time has no duration, and is discrete, then there can be no duration of time from (micro-) moment to moment. Thus, the duration of time, does not compute. It is discontinuous, granular. However, like still images projected at a rapid enough rate, in a kinescope, or via HDTV, it seems continuous to human perception. Its refresh rate is subliminal. How could the smallest unit of time (ksana) be measured? What would one use, to measure it? Duration itself, may be regarded as a conjecture, one seemingly confirmed by instruments invented to measure it, the design of which instruments presupposes continuity in time. For instance, the duration of the tone, from a tuning fork, can be measured; but the tone is in a continual state of degradation, and so is never exactly the same, even for a moment. This imputed sameness is a kind of self-fulfilling proof, or a belief, applied to a concept of the ungraspable, time. According to Zen, the present moment, having its own past and future, is discrete; and yet simultaneously ensconced in eternity; and that eternity is, reciprocally, comprised of moments. But these moments are not conceptual units of time; they are actual. And though a moment is necessarily conceived as separate, all moments are also one, eternal. The eternal moment. It seems inappropriate to regard time as a dimension, completing the set of three spatial dimensions: length, depth, and height. This an overly neat, and simultaneously sloppy, construction. It has all the marks of a fundamental categorical error. Time would seem to be of an entirely different order, from three linear, orthographic projections of spatial measurement. The conflation of spatial dimension, with the arrow of time, is widely accepted by the public, and rather cavalierly bruited about by scientists in popular discourse. But it serves mainly to confuse. The 17th Century Cartesian Coordinate System, while providing a useful link between algebra and geometry, is, itself, an insufficient and rather arbitrary model of space. Like D. T. Suzuki’s assessment of the concept of measured time, it becomes a kind of tragedy, for scientific literacy if not for spirituality, that people take Descartes’ system to be the way space actually is. Space does not have lineal dimension, any more than time consists of linear moments. These are approximations, useful in day-to-day activities and commerce, and so have become ubiquitous. But to casually refer to time as the fourth dimension amounts to a corruption, a dumbing-down, of the truth, as well as a misuse of language. It is inadvertent at best, condescending at worst, in the context of scientific discourse. It is like referring to the sun as rising, or setting, when nothing of the sort is taking place. The earth may be rotating, but the sun does not rise; nor does it set. These socially-agreed conventions are analogous to the appendix, remnants of an earlier, flat- earth grasp of reality, which evolved a tick or so after the first primates stood up from all fours. From five or six feet off the ground, the world does, after all, appear to be flat. Likewise, the arrow of time is meaningful only on the level of human-scale perception, and as a human conception. It is apparent that directional time, proceeding from past to present to future, does not hold, on close examination, at quantum scale. Time seems to have no inherent direction, in the up- close-and-personal life of subatomic particles. Everything does age, and die, however, in time. Including, probably, quantum particles, the smallest of dharma beings. Master Dogen intuited the nature of time as both linear and momentary, or non-linear, in his description of the flux and flow of time:

Existence-Time has the virtue of passing in a series of moments. That is to say, from today it passes through a series of moments to tomorrow, from today it passes through a series of moments to yesterday; from yesterday it passes through a series of moments to today; from today it passes through a series of moments to today; and from tomorrow it passes through a series of moments to tomorrow. Because passage through separate moments is a virtue of Time, moments of the past and present are neither piled up one on top of another nor lined up in a row…

The virtue, here, of time, reflects the translator’s choice of archaic English terminology, connoting the “a good or useful quality of a thing” reflecting Master Dogen’s appreciation of the pragmatic view of time, followed by his inimitable logic, deconstructing conventional wisdom concerning its essential nature. Shakespeare’s Tomorrow Soliloquy, mentioned before, reveals a typical Western, relatively linear, and desultory, take on time:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. …it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Idiocy, once again, from the eye of the beholder. None of our cultural imprecision in language, and its resultant confusion in conceptualization, changes the relationship of real space to real time. Even to define these concepts as real is to do a disservice to the truth. But it is necessary for the sake of distinguishing what we mean by time and space, leading to the next point. According to modern physics, what is called time is inseparable from what is called space. Spacetime is not an amalgam, however, since neither space, nor time, can exist separately, and therefore, cannot be amalgamated. Time emerges out of space, and space out of time, so to speak. In Buddhist terms, time and space are interdependently arisen. As Daisetz Suzuki pointed out in his discussion of measured time, above, humankind slices and dices reality into conceptual parts, in order to be able to think about it. Then, we take the made-up parts to reflect reality, which afflicts our thinking; which is where the confusion sets in. When we sit in zazen, still enough and for long enough, all the parts fall apart, then come back together. This unification is not conceptual, but trans-perceptual. Time is not separate from anything else. Time is in change; change is in time. All such isolates are mutually defining, and inter-dependent. This becomes apparent, in zazen. The effect is, quite literally, astounding. Through zazen, we settle into real time. We have all the time that there is. Time is all that we have. And yet, time is not something we can have, actually. But it is also not simply fleeting, constantly slipping out of our grasp, as it is generally perceived, or rather thought, to be. As Master Dogen instructed, as to the meaning of time in Buddhism: We should not understand only that Time flies. We should not learn that “flying” is the only ability of Time. If we just left Time to fly away, some gaps in it might appear. Those who fail to experience and to hear the truth of Existence-Time do so because they understand [Time] only as having passed.

Time cannot be perceived, only conceived. What we perceive is change, from which we extract the concept of time. Even to assert that we perceive change is an abstraction. When we cease grasping, at the illusion of time, measured time, we are embraced by, immersed in, real time.

Concept Space Space, as we conceive it, is also best regarded as an approximation, like time, rather than as an accurate reflection of concrete reality. Even when combined with time, as spacetime, Einstein’s famous conflation, we still imagine space to be an empty void, through which objects move, through time. It seems necessary, if we are to sidestep preconceptions, to develop, and sustain, a mindset that regards even the most sophisticated idea as a provisional concept. This kind of mindset emerges in zazen, or from the findings of science. For example, space is not empty, any more than water is wet. Our concept of space is based on perception. We all agree that there is such a thing as space, though of course, it is not a thing at all. Space is an attribute of the aggregate of form, rupa. Buddhism recognizes two classes of space (akasha), that which is limited by corporeality, and that which is not. In lieu of a gnarly discussion, suffice it to say that form is in space, but also, space is in form. Space is not simply that which surrounds form, but is all-pervading. In this way, it is related to Buddhism’s formulation, that which is emptiness is form; that which is form is emptiness. Space, in this sense, is analogous to emptiness, all-permeating, yet not substantial. But Buddhist emptiness, again, is not empty, in the sense of void; but dynamic, energetic. In zazen, our apprehension of space changes. Because we sit still for long periods of time, our everyday perception, and conceptual representation, of our self as a being-in-space, shifts. A new experience sets in, which cannot be articulated via the same language and syntax as the old, familiar sense of self. It is no longer the sense of a discrete being, in surrounding space, looking from inside the head, into the outer world. It is, instead, a kind of zero-sum correlation of inside and outside, in which neither exists without the other, so that there is no inside and outside to it. The apparent boundary, between inside and outside, self and other, becomes fuzzy, and, like the morning dew, evaporates altogether, in the sunshine of enlightenment. The Bodhi-mind can usefully be regarded as akin to space. When sensory adaptation sets in, it overcomes resistance in the body, and distractions in hearing and seeing, as well as the busy-ness of the mind. The experience can become rather spacey, so to speak. The traditional meditative experience of limitless space, the first of the four stages of formlessness (Arupasamadhi), can be understood as a profound level of sensory adaptation. This is not so much a goal to be accomplished, as it is the inevitable result of sitting still enough for long enough. And without relying on, or resorting to, our usual habits of thinking in words and concepts. This would necessarily mean that we come to regard thinking, itself, as merely another sense, not the I of I think therefore I am. A revised sense of space as dynamic is clearly evident, when rising from zazen for walking meditation (J. kinhin). Rising slowly, smoothly, and without disruption to attention, standing for a moment, then walking very slowly, we extend the stillness of zazen into the motion of kinhin. The relationship of our being-in-motion, to the spatial environment through which we are moving, manifests a one-to-one correlation of complementary, equal and opposite, movement. When we move to one side, the surrounding space moves, correspondingly, in the opposite direction, and precisely to the same degree. We are left with a sense of no motion whatever. It is a change in perception, in which the motion of the body seems canceled out, by the motion of the environment, summing to zero. This yields an awareness of the pervasive, absolute stillness, underlying relative motion. The body’s center of gravity (J. tanden) is in the pit of the lower stomach, or pelvis. This still point moves, in kinhin, along with the body, slowly forward, with each half-step. The zendo environment moves in the opposite direction, flowing through the senses, at the selfsame pace. This is primarily a visual experience, though the sound environment also changes continuously, if more subtly. There are concommitant changes in tactile impressions, such as temperature, the shifting of clothing, the feel of the floor. But the predominant registration of movement is visual. Returning to our place of sitting, the relative movement of walking comes to a halt, and the relative stillness of sitting comes into play, once again. The body settles into deep absorption, often transcending tactile and other physical sensations. Numbness sets in. Any sense of a boundary, where our being ends, and the environment begins; becomes fuzzy. Entering the realm of sensation-only, the second of the five skandhas, space is not limited to a surrounding envelope of the body, but is all- permeating, throughout the body, as well. Whatever our interpretation of the psycho-physiological source, our tangible sense of space, and our relation to it, changes. Changes dramatically. This effect, combined with an altered sense of time as discussed above, opens up new vistas of the real spacetime. Zazen and spacetime are not-two.

In this chapter, we attempt to identify key benefits, if not unique to Zen, then uniquely part of the Zen experience. Working through the senses, one at a time, we connect sensory experience in perception, to the development of Samadhi. Certain immediate effects of zazen Samadhi are described, to the extent possible in words. Lastly, we engage in some speculation about the effects of the effects of zazen Samadhi, upon our conceptual frames of reference for reality. In the next chapter, the first of the last section on Future, selected larger-scale effects, such as implications for Zen for the practice of a rational approach to religion, and a spiritual view of science, will be explored. They may presage some unintended consequences for society, following from its potential acceptance of certain tenets of Buddhism.

III. FUTURE

That deep emotional conviction of the presence of a superior reasoning power, which is revealed in the incomprehensible universe, forms my idea of God. — Einstein

A. TOWARD A RATIONAL RELIGION

Religious persons may object to the opposition of religion and rationality implied in the title of this section. Indeed, they may feel that their religious outlook already has a basis in rationality. The title is not meant to suggest an absolute separation, or that religion is innately irrational. After all, the world’s great religions, as institutions, historically provided education and other pragmatic services to society, from medieval monastery to contemporary madrasa. The net benefit to society is probably one of the main reasons that Buddhism, for example, survived centuries of turmoil in China and, later, Japan. Further, in earlier times, prior to the Enlightenment, religion and science in Europe were not so polarized as they appear today. It is also not the intent of this chapter, or for that matter, this entire text, to promote Zen, as the chosen religion of the future. Our major thesis, again, is that Zen provides a middle way, one that will foster a rational attitude toward anyone’s religion. Zen will never, we can be sure, join the ranks of religions competing for the saving of souls, nor for the title of Religion of the World. This section will explore some of the more, and less, obvious sub-conflicts to the uber-conflict between rationality and religion, a.k.a. conservative Christianity, as well as points on which Zen Buddhism may beg to differ, from what is commonly misunderstood about it.

WHAT’S IN AN ADJECTIVE? Einstein also said, that what seemed most improbable to him, about the universe, is that it is understandable at all: “The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is comprehensible.” In this sense, religion’s Creation can be considered intrinsically scientific. That which is created by God is subject to human investigation and understanding, even scientific predictability. Religions that recognize this could be called rational, in that regard. Christianity regards science as secular, even anti-spiritual, of the devil, especially when its endeavors threaten to re-make the world. Science often pursues technology in pursuit of perceived needs of humankind, but in doing so, endangers what is thought to be the natural order, i.e. of the pre- scientific world. For example, the famously successful genome project. Unpredictability, understandably, sets off alarms: Where is this going to lead? The world has, too often, been witness to the unbridled use of science’s power, and its potential for harm. Religion necessarily upholds what it considers to be God-given human values, as humans are formed in the image of their god, however imperfectly. It fears that these values will be drowned, in the rising tide of scientific progress. This portends loss, of the comforting dimensions of our familiar lifestyles, with attendant personal and social suffering, if the test-tubers win out. And the attendant loss of personal wealth, status and power, augured by the decline of religion. Zen Buddhism may offer a solution, or at least a reasonable approach to a resolution. It would propose moving from a dialog, of conflict based on fear, to a direct confrontation with fear, itself. It may be too much to ask, that those engaged in public debate, show the humility to admit to being fearful; and to frame the discussion honestly, in that context. But as long as the dialog remains defensive, it will never penetrate to the depth necessary, to bring about real resolution of what may be, at the end of the day, an imaginary conflict. Fears harbored by each side are similar, in that they anticipate suffering, and hope to avoid it. If they can be brought to the table, it may be possible to effect a kind of triage, in which priorities can be set, and trade-offs worked out, between risks and benefits. Perhaps opponents can come to see themselves as sharing common goals, free of the constraints of fearful antagonism.

BELIEF VERSUS THEORY An unexamined presumption of the debate, the peremptory polarization of science and religion, is played out by actors of supposedly scientific and religious bents; belief on one side, theory on the other. Rather than a serious airing of real and potential grievances, it becomes a Punch and Judy sideshow of thrusts and feints. When we get beyond 2-dimensional stereotyping, the puppets are very complex, not cardboard stand-ups. Belief in God , fundamental to theistic religion, is also professed by many scientists, though perhaps not many of them believe in a personal God. The latter implies an actual being, endowed with intelligence, and awareness of his creation; and who shares a personal relationship with the believer. This may be a bit much for rationalists, who may entertain a less literal concept. Belief in God as a person can, perhaps, be explained away. For example, the feeling that there is someone watching over us could be latent memory, based on our experience as an infant. Someone was taking care of us, feeding, bathing, and keeping us warm, at a time when we had only the vaguest notion of self, let alone of other. A pet cat, or dog, in some rudimentary way, probably regards its human caretakers as god-like, and for similar reasons. This is not to denigrate spiritual epiphany, e.g. of being in a state of grace. It is just to say that such feelings are not necessarily what they seem to be. They may be resonances on forgotten memories.

TOWARD A RATIONAL DEBATE On balance, in the debate between Christian proponents of creationism and scientific advocates of evolution, we would have to award the mantle of rationalism to the latter. The public face of religion, creationist groups in particular, often appears less than rational, at least by comparison to that of science. Faith-based agents frequently resort to political pressure, and questionable tactics, to get their way. This, others have noted, inadvertently makes odd bedfellows of historic enemies, Islam and Christianity. The US is currently engaged in a modern-day campaign of invasion, and nation building, in the Middle East, raising the specter of the Medieval Crusades. Ironically, and simultaneously, the religious right holds up a murky mirror to that religious conflict here at home. On both fronts, religion appears regressively, and progressively, irrational. A religious person may also be uncomfortable with, even antagonistic to, scientific theories in general. They often require great effort to fully comprehend, especially one so broad and deep as evolution. They also often contradict religious belief, or at least appear to. But the discomfort of the religious right seems over-the-top, reflecting something beyond the normal, math-averse, reaction of the general public. The depth of anti-science revulsion raises a good many questions. What is it that a devoted Christian fears, in the theories of science? What would be the worst- case consequence for Christianity, resulting from universal acceptance of scientific ideas? Do they necessarily predict a negative outcome for Christians? Are the Christian’s closely held beliefs actually threatened, by society’s acceptance of science’s theories, or by the individual’s acquiescence to them? These are questions the religious side should address forthrightly. The question this chapter asks is, Can there be a religion that does not contradict science? That religion is widely considered irrational, would probably not bother most religious people. They may not value rationality that much, in the greater scheme of things. Most people, religious or not, likely do not operate on the basis of strict rationality, in their daily lives. And some probably find certain theories of science, to be quite irrational. Any answer offered to the why questions posed by religion, it may be fairly argued, could not be based on rationality. Why is not usually a rational question. The rational mind has disqualifying limitations, especially when it comes to dealing with the ambiguity of spiritual matters. This problem is recognized in Zen, and addressed by its open-minded meditation. Again, the premise of this chapter: that rationality and spirituality are not antithetical; of the book: that Zen Buddhism offers a middle way, a completely normal and normative, standard method and practical approach, to developing a rational, religious worldview.

THE WHY QUESTION Professor Irwin Corey, billed as “The World’s Foremost Authority,” now little-known, and perhaps underappreciated, was a standup comic popular in the 1950’s and 1960’s. His act included a hilarious bit about the deeper meaning of why. He always appeared in full black tuxedo and white tie, with wild, Einstein-like flowing hair—and black basketball shoes, the familiar Converse brand. People would often ask him, why he always wore basketball shoes. He pointed out that this is actually a two-part question. The first part of that question is, “Why?” he explained; then launched into a lengthy, professorial exposition on the question, Why? He would go on and on, for what seemed an interminable time in a very funny, and eloquent, exposition of all the historical and philosophical implications, and connotations of the word that one might think of. After thoroughly exhausting the subject, as the central and abiding question in the history of humankind, with much waving of hands, and flying of hair, even quoting the Book of Job, if memory serves, he would suddenly stop. Then he declared that the second part of that question is, “Do you always wear basketball shoes?” To which he would abruptly retort, “Yes!” The anguished questions that arise, following a tragedy, can be looked at in a similar way, without diminishing the solemn nature of the event. Especially when faced with the capriciousness of nature, when a tornado may leave one house standing, while flattening all those around it, there seems to be no logical answer, no rhyme nor reason. For example, Why does God allow this to happen? Why is the ancient question, and yes, God does allow this to happen. Inescapably, if God is the Intelligent Designer. Many simply throw up their hands, saying it is an act of God, moving in mysterious ways. But is it rational, to think that God would discriminate so closely between neighbors? Is it reasonable to read into what is clearly a random, chaotic event, intention on God’s part? Some feel blessed, simply to get through such a calamity with their lives, others with their home miraculously intact. But this may be an example of the remarkable resilience, not to say stubbornness, of religious faith, in the face of evidence to the contrary. Or it might be interpreted as self-centered selectivity: the believer, finding the silver lining in the darkest of clouds, claiming to be personally blessed by God, when so many others have not been. This can come across as grossly divisive, implying that those who suffer greater loss are less blessed than others, less worthy in the eyes of God. Religion attempts to answer the why questions without resort to evidence, at least that kind of evidence that can pass the reasonable person, or the third party, test. Why me, Lord? is the basic question of the long-suffering; the unrelenting plaint of Job. Various religions, and even subgroups within the same religion, answer this question quite differently. One far-right religious leader, since deceased, famously, or infamously, attributed natural disasters in Florida to the sins of a few select persons, in the affected community. Their behavior, he claimed, called down the wrath of God, in the form of hurricanes and other natural disasters; a contemporary reprise of Sodom and Gomorrah. Perhaps the good shepherd has since revised his opinion, now that he is in direct contact with his Creator. Another televangelist recently attributed the incomprehensible suffering, visited upon the denizens of Haiti by the worst earthquake in history, to their having made a pact with Satan, to get out from under the colonial domination of France, some decades ago. Voodoo theology. In this atmosphere, of theological theater of the absurd in America, competing with the historic hysteria in the Middle East, it may seem a stretch to propose that religion can be rational. The proposal requires the marriage of religion, with reasoning; which implies the application of empirical method, to faith. But traditional religions are based, primarily, on blind faith. Their belief is not based on evidence, but the dialog of prayer, and they rely upon doctrinal scripture, rather than direct experience. Religion often does, of course, allow for direct religious experience—as in an epiphany, or divinely inspired vision. Particularly in contemplative, mystical sects, personal revelation is revered, and as documented in the history of sainthood. But this kind of insight is, also, frequently looked upon with suspicion and fear.

REVELATION VERSUS SCRIPTURE The founding of a religion typically involves some sort of revelatory experience, which is later recorded as scripture. In this way, scripture is somewhat analogous to traditional theories recorded in the history of science. They often comprise a eureka moment, documented verbally and analyzed mathematically, and later tested by experiment. However, in science, its scripture—in the form of historical hypotheses and theories—is subject to scrutiny. It can, by qualified practitioners, be revised, disproved, subsumed into new theories. If none of the above transpires, theory may be enshrined as physical law. This process is based upon the empirical method, which is not the standard operating procedure of religious endeavor. But in Zen, the approach is similar. From a Zen perspective, the litmus test for any Buddhist scripture becomes: Does this hold up to my direct experience? If scripture is contradicted by experience, scripture has to give. Empirical means “based on, concerned with, or verifiable by observation or experience rather than theory or pure logic.” This definition may seem to preclude empirical spirituality. Empiricism, as a philosophy, also means “the theory that all knowledge is derived from sense-experience.” Spiritual knowledge need not, indeed, cannot, be divided from the physical. Empirically, that is. The 28th Buddhist Patriarch in India, known as Bodhidharma, embarked upon a mission to China around 528 CE, and is regarded as the founder of Ch’an, or Zen, Buddhism. The statement that Buddhism is based on a “special transmission outside of scripture” is attributed to him. This does not mean that there is no scripture in Buddhism, or that the Buddhist canon is to be discarded. It simply means that scripture, alone, is not capable of transmitting the truth. Spiritual wisdom in Zen is received directly, transmitted from (universal) Mind to (human) mind. This is akin to the spiritual communion found in all religions. But it is not merely a state of bliss, and it is not regarded as being of God.

RELIGION VERSUS FEAR Some of the differences Zen might find with religious belief in general, and those of Christianity in particular, seem to be based on common sense, or—heaven forfend—logic. For example, fear seems to be a motivator in some forms of theism, as indicated by the expression, God- fearing. A God-fearing man is a good man. But in a religion that believes in a benevolent God, it seems contradictory that God, if truly benevolent, should have to be, literally, feared; in order that his followers be good. They should already be good, one should think. Additionally, if God is benevolent—and therefore forgiving—then all sins, both of omission and commission, surely are forgiven, given that we are truly repentant. But do we have to be driven to repentance by fear? Fear of what? Punishment? eternal damnation? It seems that genuine repentance would be enough. This is one, small example, of the logical contradictions, and emotionally charged attitudes, that repulse many rational people, estranging them from religions that preach these views. There may, indeed, be something real to fear, but it strains credulity, to insist that the very creator God that brought Creation into being, is waiting to punish anyone, synchronously created, who is caught breaking the rules. This smacks of a distinctly human version, of behavior control. To insist that the rest of us must follow certain rules; preached from the pulpit by fellow fallible human beings, who claim God’s authority; strains credulity to the breaking point.

THE BIG PICTURE To provide some humbling context, regarding the state of religion in America; and to see the place of Christianity and Zen in the bigger picture, we turn again to the public dialog. Zen Buddhists are clearly in the minority, according to Diana Eck, Professor of Comparative Religion, and Director of Harvard’s Pluralism Project. To the question posed by the host, “Is interest in religion or spirituality growing in America?” she responds: “Pollsters tell us…that over 2/3 of Americans will respond by saying religion is very important in their lives; over half will say they attend worship services of one sort or another, at least once a week; and…some 90% will say that they believe in God.” She goes on to give a snapshot of the diversity of religious life in the USA:

Let’s do the overall picture. We are a country that is largely…80% Christian; among the Christians the largest group is Catholics, followed by Southern Baptists, then United Methodists, then a huge plethora of the rest of religious denominations within Christianity. As for the Jewish community, about 5 to 6 million Jews; about the same number of Muslims; about 2 and a half million, maybe 3 million Buddhists; about a million and a half Hindus; all of these together adding up to about 7% of American religious people who are… non-Christian. And then there are the people who don’t identify with religion, who would answer “no religion”; that is something like 13%; and of those there is a significant percentage who would identify as atheists.

Of course, Buddhism would claim those in the all others column as bodhisattvas, who do not yet know their true natures. From a Buddhist perspective, all spiritual seekers are on the same path. Professor Eck ends with a question on diversity, implying the tensions it engenders: “How do we deal with religious diversity?”

THE DEVIL IN DIVERSITY Diversity, in itself, should not pose a threat to the religious. The USA is a pluralistic society, after all, and its denizens exhibit at least public pretensions to a respect for diversity. Diversity is a chain often yanked, by those with a vested interest, as the politically correct thread running through the official national fabric. Diversity, of the non-religious sort, is part and parcel of the great melting-pot. With the current kerfuffle over immigration, the diversity button is increasingly hot, attracting more critical attention north and south of the border, and deservedly so. But religious diversity is different, a different order of diversity, if just as divisive. John Horgan, author of Rational Mysticism, makes the case for making room for diversity beyond belief: The Universists [a contemporary alternative religion not to be confused with Unitarianism] are asking atheists, agnostics and other infidels to join them in their effort to counter the influence of religious zealots on our culture…There are more of us heathens out there than you might guess. According to the Pluralism Project at Harvard, which tracks religious diversity in the United States, the number of people with no religious affiliation has grown sharply over the past decade, to as many as 39 million. That is about twice the number of Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus and Episcopalians combined.

The numbers help me so I would not feel so all alone. Perhaps all 39 million should rise up as one, and secede. The result, one nation out from under God, might resemble the Swiss cheese patchwork of the so-called Palestinian state, writ large. But even that contingency would not address Mr. Horgan’s general objection to the self-righteousness of the rational contingent:

My main objection to all these anti-religion, pro-science groups is that they aren’t addressing our basic problem, which is ideological self-righteousness of any kind. Obviously, not all faithful folk are intolerant bullies seeking to impose their views on others. Moreover, rejection of religion and adherence to a supposedly scientific worldview do not necessarily represent our route to salvation. Of course we all feel validated when others see the world as we do. But we should resist the need to insist or even imply that our views — or anti-views — are better than all others. In fact, we should all be more modest in how we talk about our faith or lack thereof.

A bit of modesty would certainly go a long way, but it doesn’t make for very good TV. Mr. Horgan next raises an issue near and dear to the heart of Zen: the reality of doubt.

For me, that isn’t difficult, because I’ve never really viewed my doubt as an asset. Quite the contrary. I often envy religious friends, because I see how their faith comforts them. Sometimes I think of my skepticism as a disorder, like being colorblind or tone-deaf. Perhaps I’m missing what one geneticist has called “the God gene,” an innate predilection for faith (although I’m skeptical of that theory, too). But skepticism has its pleasures; I like the feeling of traveling lightly through life, unencumbered by beliefs.

In spite of the burden imposed by a healthy dose of doubt, it is hard to be envious of those who seem to be whistling past the graveyard. If Horgan yearns for safety in numbers, he should seek out those who do not separate faith and doubt, such as followers of Zen Buddhism. In Zen, doubt is the emotional content of faith, the way doubt feels. A healthy skepticism would necessarily include being skeptical of skepticism itself.

PEEKS IN THE (EVANGELICAL) TENT It should be noted that the more extreme, fundamentalist or evangelical sectors of the Christian church, are by no means unified in their disagreement with secularists and non-believers, but find schisms with other branches of their faith, even within their own sects. As noted in a column by Michael Luo: Today, on Easter, evangelical Christians can celebrate knowing that they are part of a movement that has never been so powerful or so large. But like any dominating force, evangelicalism is not monolithic, and it seems that now, at a time of heightened power, old fissures are widening, and new theological and political splits are widening. Evangelical leaders have clashed recently over a range of issues, including whether the movement should get involved in the debates over global warming and immigration. A tug of war is also unfolding behind the scenes over theology — should evangelicalism be a bigger tent, open to more divergent views, or a smaller, purer theology?

Emerging evangelical awareness, and sensitivity to the environment, might be likened to a hibernating polar bear, awaking from a deep seasonal sleep, only to find its habitat ravaged. It may signal an influential sect’s finally interpreting dominion over the earth as stewardship, rather than rapacious consumption. This would be a welcome development, given the history of neglect, rationalized by the belief in impending apocalypse.

FUNDAMENTAL MEDITATION Encouraging, from the viewpoint of this follower of Zen, is the return within the evangelical movement, to some of the spiritual practices that Buddhism has traditionally emphasized (emphasis by author):

There is also a growing conflict over theology, or specifically the orthodoxy of the “emerging church” movement. Although much of the attention on the emerging church movement has been on changes that its leaders have made in worship — bringing back liturgy and ancient practices like meditation and chanting — the movement has also sought to introduce theological innovations. It emphasizes reading the Bible as a narrative, perfect in its purposes but not necessarily inerrant; de-emphasizing individual salvation in favor of a more holistic mission in serving the world; even making evangelicals less absolutist on whether people from other religions might find their way to heaven.

It is encouraging to hear of a return to meditation in certain sects of Christianity, as it opens the door to true spirituality, beyond rigid sectarianism and dogma. The last paragraph mentions other welcome changes in evangelical attitudes. They begin to ameliorate some of the more egregious attitudes associated with fundamentalism, such as the focus on self-salvation, damn the world; and the belief that only Christians need apply to heaven. It is hard to imagine a less diverse, private club vision of paradise, a gated community in the sky. Abandoning the emphasis on individual salvation is congruent with the vow of the Bodhisattva, to save all beings before oneself. However, the idea of heaven, as taught in Christianity, cannot be assimilated into the Buddhist system. Heaven and hell are regarded as conditions created here, on earth. Dying in fear, for example, is surely the worst kind of hell. Right up there with fearing eternal perdition. Mr. Luo establishes that these modernists represent a small minority, less than 10% of the total evangelical movement, and mentions that “All of this has made many evangelical leaders nervous. They worry that the ‘emerging church’ will water down the theology.” He goes on to say that a chief apostle of the modernist movement, Brian D. McLaren:

…argues that he is not promoting relativism; rather, he believes the evangelical movement has been hijacked theologically, as well as politically, by its more fundamentalist elements, something he is trying to correct.

Relativism here has the same meaning as in the previous example from Catholic sources (see Church & State)—a kind of ultimate political correctness that levels all opinions and belief systems to a bland equivalency, eliminating any serious consideration of comparative analysis. The idea of finding a third way, a major premise of this book, is nothing new:

“In many, many areas, I’m looking at polarization,” he said, “and I’m looking at a third way.” These disputes are nothing new for evangelism. The evangelical movement as it is known today emerged in the 1940’s and 50’s as a middle way between what many Christian leaders perceived as theological liberalism in the mainline Protestant denominations and the cultural separatism of the fundamentalist movement.

It seems counterintuitive to regard evangelism as a middle way, as it is generally considered an extreme form of Christianity. This is one of the problems with stereotyping: all peas are not in the same pod. Evangelism also stresses action, as the way to implement its third way, which is likewise a central principle of Zen. Taking action is the resolution of fate and free will, in Zen; it promises to overcome personal karma, via positive activity. The third, middle way, that we are is proposing, however, is not simply another take on the theology, and orthodoxy, of Christianity; but harks back to a tradition that predates Christianity by half a millennium. Of course, the way of meditation is not the exclusive province of Buddhism, nor of a narrow spectrum of Christian sects. As reported by Goleman, quoted in How Zen Works above, it is a tradition that is found, in one form or another, in the history of all the great religions:

The themes of acts of purification, deep meditation, and finally their fruition in spontaneous purity and constant remembrance of God are not unique to Eastern Orthodoxy’s Hesychasts. These central threads are widespread in Catholic contemplative traditions. St. Augustine, for one, advocated these same basic practices.

The middle way between science and religion is nothing new, either. It was, once upon a time, the way of reason and faith, applied to the greatest of questions. It may be so again, but only if scientists will embrace spirituality, and religionists embrace reason.

SANCTITY VERSUS SANCTIMONY John C. Green, a senior fellow at the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, reports that polling data separates evangelicals into “three camps, traditionalist, centrist, and modernist” with varying degrees of orthodoxy versus flexibility:

Earlier this year, more than 80 evangelical leaders, many of them pastors who would likely be classified as centrists… signed an evangelical call to action on global warming. In its public statements, Focus on the Family said Dr. Dobson chose not to sign on because the group questioned the validity of the theory and believed it put plants and animals above humans. “For us, we have to focus on some core issues that are connected to our principles,” said Paul L. Hetrick, a spokesman for the group. “One of our core principles is the value of sanctity of human life.” Mr. Hetrick criticized other evangelicals… who have been active on climate change and, more recently, immigration issues, for neglecting core concerns like abortion and gay marriage.

Some of us may feel a great sense of relief, to learn that someone is, finally, standing up for the sanctity of human life. Now at six billion and counting, we have been under such unrelenting pressure, threatened with extinction all over the globe, particularly by the two new Horsemen of the Apocalypse, abortion and gay marriage. All kidding aside, it’s poverty—not a core concern, according to Dr. Dobson—that threatens humanity, way more than abortion or gay marriage. Dr. Dobson and his fellow travelers at Focus on the Family, seem incapable of understanding the simple, but undeniable truth—that humanity cannot exist without other animals, and plants. That they define their core issue as some sort of competition for status (in God’s eyes), compared to which global warming is laughably inconsequential, simply scales new heights of save-the-souls-first absurdity. This is the kind of attitude, blithely dismissive of impending crisis, in the face of overwhelming evidence and great good common sense, that infuriates secularists, as well as moderates in the middle. It sacrifices the minimum mote of reasoning on the altar of “core principles,” a phrase useful for camouflaging self-centered beliefs, religious or political. Putting the most merciful face on this argument, we can presume that something so potentially threatening to human life, on a global scale, as is climate change; is so difficult to comprehend, that it automatically falls into that universal catch-all of God’s will. This may be the only way to explain the mental gymnastics required to ignore global warming, for the sake of “core issues” such as abortion. But to the religious right, abortion is a horrific force to be reckoned with, according to their apocalyptic numbers: “What’s interesting is many times these folks [those not prioritizing abortion] can’t get worked up in a lather about 45 million babies killed,” Hetrick said. Even Hetrick’s selective use of the word interesting is code, an implied criticism masquerading as a neutral comment: wink-wink, nudge-nudge, you-know-what-I-mean. Interesting, in that it reinforces the superiority of the one who finds it so very interesting. The implicit meaning, honestly disclosed, would explicitly declare the mental and moral vacuity, of those who worry about global warming, rather than about abortion and gay marriage. They, apparently, do not see the inherent contradiction, in their insufficient concern over abortion, contrasted with their unseemly obsession with the distant, speculative threat of climate change. But our good focusers on the family fail to foresee, that flooding coastlines worldwide, following from climate change, will be tantamount to abortion on a massive scale. Wholesale death of infants, both before and after birth, will also explode, with the drought and famine affecting inland areas. These points seem to escape the doctor and his acolytes. Perhaps it is too remote a potential, or too impersonal, being the will of God. At any rate, climate change is not as sexy a wedge issue, and less effective as a fundraiser, than is abortion, or gay marriage. LETTER TO A NATION Sam Harris, in his Letter to a Christian Nation, begins by pointing out that those who consider themselves religious are threatened—very threatened—and tend to react with hostility to any suggestion that their cherished beliefs may be just that:

Since the publication of my first book, The End of Faith, thousands of people have written to tell me that I am wrong not to believe in God. The most hostile of these communications have come from Christians. This is ironic, as Christians generally imagine that no faith imparts the virtues of love and forgiveness more effectively than their own. The truth is that many who claim to be transformed by Christ’s love are deeply, even murderously, intolerant of criticism. While we may want to ascribe this to human nature, it is clear that such hatred draws considerable support from the Bible. How do I know this? The most disturbed of my correspondents always cite chapter and verse.

Mister Harris then goes on to demonstrate, convincingly, that the attitudes of Christianity promulgated in the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, is not the loving teaching that most proponents would have us believe. In his argument, and in conclusion, he places the role of traditional faith in a not-very-flattering position, one that is actually obstructing progress toward peace and understanding:

One of the greatest challenges facing civilization in the twenty-first century is for human beings to learn to speak about their deepest personal concerns — about ethics, spiritual experience, and the inevitability of human suffering — in ways that are not flagrantly irrational. We desperately need a public discourse that encourages critical thinking and intellectual honesty. Nothing stands in the way of this project more than the respect we accord religious faith.

The last comment becomes understandable in the context of Harris’s thesis. The very respect, accorded those representing extremes of Christian and other religious viewpoints today, is the main obstacle to an objective vetting of their arguments. It is political correctness gone awry, an inhibition of open dialog, for sake of avoiding confrontation. In a culture where nothing is sacred, unfortunately, religious belief still is. Then, in addressing the archetypal Christian addressed in his book, an admittedly narrow definition of what a Christian might be, Harris extends an olive branch to those of religious conviction:

I have no doubt that your acceptance of Christ coincided with some very positive changes in your life. Perhaps you now love other people in a way that you never imagined possible. You may even experience feelings of bliss while praying. I do not wish to denigrate any of these experiences. I would point out, however, that billions of other human beings, in every time and place, have had similar experiences — but they had them while thinking about Krishna, or Allah, or the Buddha, while making art or music, or while contemplating the beauty of Nature. There is no question that it is possible for people to have profoundly transformative experiences. A religious person might rankle, at the reduction of religious bliss, to the mundane level of that experienced in artistic or aesthetic rapture. But this comparison, between art, nature, and religion, points to an essential distinction in the Buddhist take on truth. Truth is to be experienced, rather than held as a belief in something that no one has ever experienced. Harris goes on to make the case for this emphasis on actual experience:

It is important to realize that the distinction between science and religion is not a matter of excluding our ethical intuitions and spiritual experiences from our conversation about the world; it is a matter of our being honest about what we can reasonably conclude on their basis.

And he graciously accepts that the original teachings, in contradistinction to what has been done to them by religious zealotry, were, and are, worthy of serious consideration:

There are good reasons to believe that people like Jesus and the Buddha weren’t talking nonsense when they spoke about our capacity as human beings to transform our lives in rare and beautiful ways. But any genuine exploration of ethics or the contemplative life demands the same standards of reasonableness and self-criticism that animate all intellectual discourse.

Who could argue? But there are those who cannot relax their grip, however tenuous, on beliefs that cannot stand the slightest of scrutiny. Nor can they relinquish their compulsion to have all others conform to their worldview, by brute force or force of law, if necessary. With the speculation that religion of the traditional sort may have had some survival, or other value, in our evolutionary past, Harris cautions:

That religion may have served some necessary function for us in the past does not preclude the possibility that it is now the greatest impediment to our building a global civilization.

Especially given that the religions of the world do not agree, and the religious of the world seem hell-bent on forcing hegemony over everyone else. Finally, Harris declares that his letter to the nation is “the product of a failure—the failure of the many brilliant attacks upon religion that preceded it, the failure of our schools to announce the death of God in a way that each generation can understand, the failure of the media to criticize the abject religious certainties of our public figures.” He admits to being dumbstruck by the ongoing catastrophes that are fueled by religious fervor, and his amazement in the face of persistent, religious paranoia in the twenty-first century. His concluding statement:

This letter has been an expression of that amazement — and, perhaps, of a little hope.

Hope seems to be the mantra of the day. It figured prominently in the recent presidential campaign, along with change. Religion and science both claim to offer hope. Of different kinds.

RELIGIOUS RATIONALITY Richard Dawkins, in The God Delusion, also quotes Mr. Harris, and offers an analysis of the persistent and pernicious respect accorded religion. In the very first section, the sub-sections Deserved respect and Undeserved respect, deal with what he calls “Einsteinian religion,” as deserving of respect in the former, as differentiated from “supernatural religion,” excoriated in the latter. Mr. Dawkins also ends on a hopeful note for human beings caught in the “Middle World,” the so-called classical scale, between the frightening grandeur of the macrocosmos and the quirky uncertainty of the microcosmos:

Could we, by training and practice, emancipate ourselves from the Middle World…and achieve some sort of intuitive — as well as just mathematical — understanding of the very small, the very large, and the very fast? I genuinely don’t know the answer, but I am thrilled to be alive at a time when humanity is pushing against the limits of understanding. Even better, we may eventually discover that there are no limits.

Here is where Zen Buddhism, and its intense meditation, comes into the picture. Through direct, personal practice, we come to a recognition of our own limits, and so open the door to transcending them. It may be that there is an understanding that surpasses understanding, and that this is what is missing, in both science and religion, as currently construed. Zen claims that this kind of insight, understanding what cannot be understood, is inevitable in zazen.

If we were to design a rational religion, it might have some of the following tenets, which are, inescapably, derived largely from Zen Buddhism:

• The epiphany of the founder(s) is considered accessible to all followers • Experience is honored over doctrine, when the latter does not match the former • Capacity for spiritual insight is not limited to any segment of the community • All opinions are not equal, but the dialog is open to all; seniority counts • Leaders are determined by service to the congregation and peer review • Salvation is a living experience in the present, rather than a future event • No one member is recognized as having power over another • Genuine spiritual practice is valued over growth • Proselytizing is prohibited; Those who come are welcomed; those who leave are not pursued*

*Attributed to Sokei-an, posted on his Zen center in New York.

It is hoped that this suggested outline of a religion that is rational in its design intent, while not perfect, and certainly not complete, may take a step toward describing such a faith, or practice.

This chapter focuses on the religious side of the debate, examining some of the motives, and apparent contradictory impulses, fueling it. It reinforces a point made more eloquently by others, that as long as religion, belief, or faith—call it what you will—is held to be a sacred cow, no coming to terms is possible with the scientific world, where nothing is sacred, theoretically at least. It is our hope that this analysis is a step in the right direction, of tempering religious attitudes with a dose of rationality. Perhaps it is not too naïve to hope for a rapprochement of the pursuit of revelatory experience with the pursuit of reason. The present text, in toto, is also based on hope, the hope that many more will come to discover the middle way of Zen training and practice, which, we believe, offers the best hope of balancing the scientific and religious worldviews. Perhaps a rational approach to religion’s quest to answer the why questions still seems out of reach. In Zen, these questions are not really important, though they may be entertaining. The central questions are more in the form of What? Especially, What is it that is asking the question? If the purpose of this book, and particularly this chapter, is being realized, the Zen approach, stressing personal revelation through direct application of empirical method, may now be considered a possibility, however remote, for you, the dear reader, and for anyone willing to make the effort. The next chapter will explore the possibility of a spiritual appreciation of scientific The scientist’s religious feeling takes the form of rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals an intelligence of such superiority that compared with it, all systematic thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection. — Einstein

We should take care not to make the intellect our god; it has, of course, powerful muscles, but no personality. — Einstein

B. TOWARD A SPIRITUAL SCIENCE

Einstein’s expression of deep religious feeling, in contemplating the profound harmony in nature, captures the essence of a major theme of this book: that science and spirituality are not only not at odds, but each can actually be an expression of the other. The intelligence the great man points to is not a projection of human intelligence onto a designer god; rather, humankind’s highest accomplishments are an outgrowth of this natural law, or what we might term Universal Mind. The last chapter discussed the possibility of reinventing religion as a rational worldview. In this chapter we will explore the proposition that scientific endeavor can, inversely, be considered an essentially spiritual quest. Science probes the great mysteries of the Universe, after all, from the micro to the macro. In doing so, it illuminates an ever-expanding body of knowledge that, in itself, is awe- inspiring to the human spirit. The Hubble Space Telescope photos, to name one example, testify to the ability of science to reveal the overwhelming majesty and grandeur of the true form of the Universe, call it Creation if you will. It is the excessive application of the awesome resources of science to the comforts, consumptions, and conquests, of humankind, that too often diminishes it, to something somewhat short of spirituality, something less than inspiring. Something unsettling, in its worst excesses. This is the fear that religious and other cautious people harbor, that the genie will be let out of the jar; Pandora will finally break the lock on the box, and we will be unable to close it again. Science regards religion as unscientific, when it is presented as take-it-or-leave-it belief, never mind the lack of evidence; or when its beliefs contradict irrefutable findings of science. Likewise, rationalists are put off by theists’ insistence that the workings of the universe can only be explained by a separate, outside force: a spirit, god, or intelligent designer. This claim understandably raises the question, Where is this entity to be found? What is its ground of being? Science necessarily looks for findings, for evidence, so naturally, it looks to find irrefutable evidence of the existence of God. But the proof that God exists, if ever demonstrated, is not what science fears. What it fears is a return to pre-scientific illiteracy and ignorance, a creeping encroachment of moralistic prohibitions, based on little more than superstition, as seen in the stem cell controversy, if the Bible-thumpers win. And especially, the needless postponement, or total loss, of potential contributions of science and technology, in eliminating suffering in the world. And scientists, who often depend on government support, like leaders of the religious establishment, also fear the resultant loss of wealth, status, and power. While a scientist may object to the conflation of science and spirituality, just as a religious person may object to that of religion and rationality; a scientist has an equal, or even greater opportunity, to awaken spiritually, than a person who may be constrained by religious belief. This is in part because the scientist is, on a daily basis, confronting the mystery of existence, and how it works; in part, because the empiric and theoretical method is looking for new insights. But a scientist may object for reasons of simplicity: science needs no superfluous, defining adjective. It is already sufficiently broad to comprehend spirituality, if that is your preference. The religious may object for contrary reasons: that associating science with spirituality demeans the latter. The following will examine the wording briefly, in hopes of clarifying our present intent, then look at some implications that follow, from regarding science as spiritual practice.

SPIRITUALITY AND SEMANTICS The initial working title of this chapter was Sacred Science. In discussion with a couple of scientific friends—one trained as a physicist but making a living in computer science, like many physicists do these days—both objected to the choice of sacred in conjunction with science. Sacred has connotations they feel inappropriate, such as of God, or holy. More objectionable is the association with sacred writ. The implication is that anything sacred is not open to challenge, as in a closed belief, or truth; or as fixed in scripture. In science, everything is, or should be, open to challenge. Other connotations associated with sacred, and which are appropriate here, speak to something inviolate, “secured as by a religious feeling or sense of justice against any defamation, violation, or intrusion” and “regarded with the same respect and reverence accorded holy things.” The stench of holiness is as unwelcome in science as in Zen. Scientists may feel the basic premise of this text, that Zen provides a middle way between the extremes of science and religion, to be somewhat misleading. That is, a person trained in science, but not in Zen, may fail to see any connection. To the above-mentioned friends, who are Zen practitioners as well as practicing scientists, Zen and science are definitely consonant, and they find much in common. The most scientific dimension of Zen is zazen. Uncertainty in action. Professional scientist or no, many followers of Zen are as leery of associating it with religion, or with the sacred, as scientists are, in defending their turf. Some teachers of Zen even advocate stripping its presentation of all Buddhist or other religious trappings, and any cultural accretions; to avoid rejection by people estranged from religion, or averse to Asian influence. This seems a hopeless aspiration; the Zen baby cannot be separated from the bath water. Cultural artifacts are not the essence of Zen, but they are not outside of Zen, either. Zen may be a unique approach to the truths of Buddhism, but that does not make it non-Buddhist.

RELIGION VS SPIRITUALITY Objections raised to sacred likewise apply to religious, when linked to science, although some scientists are declaredly religious, and apparently see their professional activities as harmonious with their faith. Spiritual is more neutral, but it also has inappropriate connotations for both science and Zen, such as: “of the spirit or the soul as distinguished from the body of material matters.” Spiritual is also defined as “of, from, or concerned with the intellect; intellectual,” and “showing much refinement of thought and feeling.” These latter might better fit the world of the scientist, though they are not the vernacular usage. Science recognizes the non-separation of the material and the immaterial, expressed quantitatively in Einstein’s most famous equation, E=mc2, correlating mass with latent energy, with the elegant constant of the speed of light, squared. Who woulda thunk? Buddhism concurs. But Buddha’s identity of form and emptiness states that the material (rupa) is just the immaterial (shunyatta), and vice-versa, the immaterial just the material. The equation goes both ways, like quantum time. Buddhism does not find a separation of physical and spiritual worlds, nor sacred and profane, in its analysis of reality. The deeper implications of all religion suggest the non-duality of the two, usually with the profane life on earth as test, or preparation for afterlife. Superficial teachings reify the separation, as exemplified in speculation concerning the actual location of heaven. Heaven is somewhere other than earth, or at least a parallel dimension, whereas in Buddhism, Samsara, daily life, and Nirvana, liberation, are one, inseparable. The non-duality of matter- energy, form-emptiness, body-mind, self-other, and Samsara-Nirvana, points toward a convergence of scientific theory and Zen doctrine, and away from conventional religious and Cartesian division into irreconcilable pairs.

BELIEF IN SCIENCE Many of the attacks of the religious right on science and scientists, are tantamount to personal and professional defamation, from the point of view of the scientists. Scientists stake their reputations, their careers, on the reliability of their findings. But the rulers of the religious right apparently presume that scientists are as smug, in their scientific beliefs, as they themselves are, in theirs. This is implied in the manipulative reduction of evolution to just a theory, not a fact. Many leading scientists are said to be deeply religious, if not in the conventional sense, and religious personalities frequently pop up in history, as significant contributors to science. At one time, before the Enlightenment, scientists were regarded as embarked upon a spiritual quest to understand, or see, the mind of God. Today, the expression may no longer be appropriate, but widespread discomfort with it has more to do with the current, cultural interpretation of the words, than their deeper import. If we could divorce defensive feelings, and politics, from phraseology, it might once again be appropriate to use the word God, to point to the ineffable. We have to put down the baggage. None of this controversy renders the endeavors of science unspiritual, or anti-spiritual. But religious rightists impute an arrogant certainty, to those scientists who refuse to acknowledge their own certainty, of the existence of an intelligent designer. It’s like forcing someone to cry “uncle” by twisting their arm. The religious right may be up in arms, over Darwin’s encroachment onto their creation turf. But no competent scientist would claim to fully understand evolution, in all its workings and implications, let alone assert that it can explain away the mystery of creation. Anyone who follows science, even in its non-technical publications and presentations, has to be impressed by the modesty of many leading practitioners. Science is, inherently, anything but smug. It admits to what it doesn’t know, as a starting point. But those on the religious side apparently believe that science operates the way their belief systems do. They may be incapable of any other way of relating to science, as their faith, and resulting worldview, are not empirically based. We all naturally presume, that others think along similar lines, to our own way of thinking. The theories of science are thus misinterpreted as beliefs, by the unscientific. Remarkable examples of humility, of not-knowing, in the history of science, include the admission that science didn’t know, until recently, how soap works, to lift soil from a surface. For most of the history of science, it was common knowledge that bumblebees should not be able to fly, according to the then-current theory of aerodynamics. Those wings are way too small for those big, fat, fuzzy bodies. With advances in theory and upgrades in technology, these mysteries were sufficiently solved, to justify the claim that they are now understood. The most mundane instances of observable reality are profound mysteries to science. This is in complete accord with Zen’s appreciation of the ordinary as miraculous.

TRUTH SANS PROOF There are many scientific theories, such as the Big Bang, that are not provable in any concrete sense, but presumed to be true, nonetheless. They seem evident on an intuitive level, based on considerable indirect evidence, such as the accelerating expansion of the Universe. Others surrender to the irresistible logic of mathematics. But you have to do the math. This is a major language barrier, for the religious and non-religious alike, to the inner sanctum of science. There are other areas of scientific interest, where conclusive evidence is very difficult to muster, in the objective sense. When it comes to the study of consciousness itself, science virtually throws up its hands in wonder, or, perhaps, exasperation. Consciousness is not simple awareness or knowing, when approached from the perspective of scientific scrutiny. Knowing that we do not know, is the beginning of wisdom, whether in the context of science or religion. Zen studies consciousness directly, accepting that the truths, or insights, that Buddhism lays claim to, will not be accessible in provable form. We have to settle for first-person evidence, which may seem inferior to that verified by third parties. But it is, after all, the only kind of evidence that is fully satisfying to the self. It is a different class of truth, not a belief, and not a finding that can be tested by others. Intuitive evidence is innate to consciousness, but its truth is right on the edge of what can, and cannot, be known. Proof is in the taste, as we say, of pudding.

RELIGION PRIZES SCIENTISTS There seem to be some signs of hope, that some on the religious end of the spectrum, are making an effort to meet the secular world half-way. Dennis Overbye points to a “recent trend in which the world’s richest religion prize has gone to scientists”:

John D. Barrow, a British cosmologist whose work has explored the relationship between life and the laws of Physics, was named the winner yesterday of the 2006 Templeton Prize for progress or research in spiritual matters. Five of the last six winners have been scientists. Asked about this, Dr. Barrow said, “Maybe they ask the most interesting questions.”

However suspect the motives of the Templeton foundation in awarding prizes to respected scientists, we cannot argue with the idea that science asks questions, at least as interesting as those asked in religion. With a lot higher probability of eliciting answers. Here is another attitude that Zen has in common with science; asking the right questions is at least as important as finding answers. Answers to unimportant questions are, well, unimportant. Dr. Barrow’s specialty is clearly consonant with supporting the ID subtext, as the following explanation, of why he was chosen, hints:

Dr. Barrow, a mathematical sciences professor at the University of Cambridge, is best known for his work on the anthropic principle, which has been the subject of debate in physics circles in recent years. Life as we know it would be impossible, he and others have pointed out, if certain constants of nature — numbers denoting the relative strengths of fundamental forces and masses of elementary particles — had values much different from the ones they have, leading to the appearance that the universe was “well tuned for life,” as Dr. Barrow put it. In a news release, the prize organizers said of Dr. Barrow’s work: “It has also given theologians and philosophers inescapable questions to consider when examining the very essence of belief, the nature of the universe, and humanity’s place in it.”

Hmmm. So the guarders of the prize are keeping their eyes on the other prize, quasi-scientific theories and evidence that tend to support their foregone conclusions. If the anthropic principle both frames, and finds, the Universe to be uniquely designed to reach its apogee at human life (thus the term), how much closer can it get, semantically, to ID? God is, after all, anthropic, in the definition of Christianity. Perhaps calling it the biologic principle would suffice. But then, Dr. Barrow might not have gotten the prize. Buddhism somehow manages the trick of examining the nature of the universe, and humanity’s place in it, without finding it necessary to resort to anthropomorphic theism. Dr. Barrow then reinforces our historical note above, that it was not always and ever thus:

Noting that Charles Darwin is buried in Westminster Abbey, Dr. Barrow said that in contrast with the so-called cultural wars in America, science and religion had long coexisted peaceably in England. “The concept of a lawful universe with order that can be understood and relied upon emerged largely out of religious beliefs about the nature of God,” he said.

That the concept of order emerged from deistic religion does not establish causality, but merely a correlation. However, this does not argue against peaceable coexistence.

SCIENCE AS BELIEF To one who is a scientist—or a realist, agnostic or atheist—uncomfortable with beliefs in something beyond evidence of the senses, and not subject to scientific experiment, we may be forgiven for asking: What is there to fear, in the belief systems of religions, actually? Is it a pragmatic concern with the claustrophobic effects on society of religious domination, such as those that brought about the Enlightenment? What might be the worst-case scenario, from the perspective of the rationalist, as a consequence of the hegemony of these beliefs? Backsliding into a state of ignorance? If so, what is it about that, that causes worry? Is it a concern that society, laws and justice would revert to medieval superstition, (mis)informed by magical and other arbitrary ways of thinking? Or is there something more personal that is threatened? Are certain beliefs, that a scientist holds dear, but that go unrecognized, at risk of being exposed? Scientists go off the rails, when they begin taking their findings for absolute, inviolate truth, resulting in blindness to data that may contradict a subliminal belief. Deepening our understanding of how things work may lead to the impression that it is an understanding of why they work, as well. That is, the how becomes a substitute for the why. For example, the insistence that existence, including our own, is an accident, based on random mutation, seems to obviate the question, of why existence exists. It simply does; end of discussion. This is as abrupt, opaque, and unproductive, as: The Bible says it—I believe it—that settles it. Like the Dalai Lama, who speaks eloquently of the convergence of science and spirituality, many non-scientists have been science junkies all their adult life. Who can argue with His Holiness’s assertion, that if the findings of science contradict the views of Buddhism, it is Buddhism that must conform to science, not vice-versa?

I have noticed that many people hold an assumption that the scientific view of the world should be the basis for all knowledge and all that is knowable. This is scientific materialism. Although I am not aware of a school of thought that explicitly propounds this notion, it seems to be a common unexamined presupposition. This view upholds a belief in an objective world, independent of the contingency of its observers. It assumes that the data being analyzed within an experiment are independent of the preconceptions, perceptions, and experience of the scientist analyzing them.

Here, His Holiness lays out the extreme view of the scientist-materialist-fundamentalist, a caricature, here presented more sympathetically, that the fundamentalist religious right does not hesitate to hurl in the face of their opponents. Of course, there is a body of scientific theory, and evidence, that contrasts with this extreme view. The uncertainty principle is an example of physical limitations on science’s ability to know. And the process of peer review is a recognition of the limits of any one scientist, or research team, to know for certain. His Holiness goes on to point out that the extreme materialist attitude is actually metaphysical in nature, not scientific:

Underlying this view is the assumption that, in the final analysis, matter, as it can be described by physics and as it is generally governed by the law of physics, is all there is. Accordingly, this view would uphold that psychology can be reduced to biology, biology to chemistry, and chemistry to physics. My concern here is not so much to argue against this reductionist position (although I myself do not share it) but to draw attention to a vitally important point: that these ideas do not constitute scientific knowledge; rather they represent a philosophical, in fact a metaphysical, position. The view that all aspects of reality can be reduced to matter and its various particles is, to my mind, as much a metaphysical position as the view that an organizing intelligence created and controls reality.

So here is some common ground science shares with religion. Scientific certainty greases the slippery slope to Belief, by another name. If the observer cannot be removed from the equation, then there is a metaphysical dimension to the findings of science that cannot be gainsaid. And, more importantly, there are dimensions of reality that are not readily accessible to this kind of investigation, according to the Dalai Lama:

It is difficult to see how questions such as the meaning of life or good and evil can be accommodated within such a worldview. The problem is not with the empirical data of science but with the contention that these data alone constitute the legitimate ground for developing a comprehensive worldview or an adequate means for responding to the world’s problems. There is more to human existence and to reality itself than current science can ever give us access to.

The contention that scientific data constitute grounds, for presumptions transcending the limitations of the data, elevates the how of science to the more treacherous level of asserting why things are as they are, the province of philosophy, or religion. The sheer beauty of scientific discovery may sometimes be so overwhelming, that it does rise to the level of epiphany. However, that does not remove the mystery, of that which is not yet known. Then, the Dalai Lama offers a similar caveat for the side of religiosity:

By the same token, spirituality must be tempered by the insights and discoveries of science. If as spiritual practitioners we ignore the discoveries of science, our practice is also impoverished, as this mind-set can lead to fundamentalism.

But he embraces the convergence of scientific and Buddhist thought, particularly in the mysterious micro world of quantum physics (insert by author):

To a Mahayana Buddhist exposed to [18th Patriarch in India] Nagarjuna’s thought, there is an unmistakable resonance between the notion of emptiness and the new physics. If on the quantum level, matter is revealed to be less solid and definable than it appears, then it seems to me that science is coming closer to the Buddhist contemplative insights of emptiness and interdependence.

SCALE OF EVIDENCE Most scientists would probably argue, that the form of subatomic particles is not accessible to ordinary consciousness, operating on the human scale. And they might scoff at the claim of Buddhists that they have direct access to insight on a different scale, than that defined as classic, the dimension in which human mind operates. Nagarjuna, 14th Patriarch in India, referred to seeing into the flux of arising, abiding and decaying, as the direct apperception of impermanence, or emptiness, accessible to awareness through meditation. Master Dogen referred to insight as the fine or subtle mind of Nirvana. This kind of experience occurs on a trans-sensory level, evidenced by first-person, but it seems very solid to those who encounter it. The limitations of second- and third-party evidence are clearly evident, when it comes to evaluating direct experience of consciousness. Only measurable phenomena can be documented by such confirmation. In mind-brain research, the scientist resorts to observing electrical activity in the brain, to authenticate correlations between awareness and measurable effects. In Zen, authentication is inseparable from cultivation. Confirmation comes directly in meditation. If you bang your head against the wall, and others bang their heads against the wall, they don’t all have to observe and measure each other, in order to have a meaningful experience, or to come to the same conclusion, about the results of head-wall-banging. It hurts.

DO THE MATH Unlike the Dalai Lama, some of us do not have an excuse for scientific illiteracy. Those who were not cut off from the developments of modern science by the limitations of cultural isolation, as he was—but instead, owing to a confluence of events and personal choices, ended up not doing the math —confront a profound barrier in understanding science. In this defect, no one is alone, in the current generation, and in the USA in general. Statistics indicate the severity of the problem we are facing, as regards science sophistication. These stats provide background for issues raised in the debate. Nicholas Kristof writes:

The best argument against “intelligent design” has always been humanity itself. At a time when only 40 percent of Americans believe in evolution, and only 13 percent know what a molecule is, we’re an argument at best for “mediocre design.” One-fifth of Americans still believe that the Sun goes around the Earth, instead of the other way around. And only about half know that humans did not live at the same time as dinosaurs. A century ago, Einstein published his first paper on relativity…but relativity has yet to filter into the consciousness of otherwise educated people. In this century, one of the most complex choices we will make will be what tinkering to allow with human genes, to “improve” the human species. How can our leaders decide that issue if they barely know what DNA is?

Mr. Kristof’s main point in this column, not evident from the quote, is that the sciences have historically taken a back seat to the humanities, in the prevailing view of a well-educated person. This unfortunate turn of events, he opines, stems primarily from successful self-promotion of proponents of the humanities. One could argue that the other primary contributor, to this state of affairs, is the wall that many students run into—the inaccessibility of higher mathematics—an all-too-common experience in high school and university. Many potential scientists are likely dissuaded from pursuit of higher math and physics, by negative experiences with unskillful or unsympathetic teachers, coupled with inadequate support from relatively math-illiterate parents. On top of personal limits in innate ability, and a lack of perseverance. Been there, done that. Zen may offer some hope, even in this dense a thicket. Zazen cultivates non-thinking, rather than dependance on thinking, which may seem counter-productive here. But when a student has difficulty assimilating difficult concepts, such as math, the ability to go beyond ordinary thinking, and to tap into intuition, may be just what is needed. Meditation in the schools is rife with opportunity, but unlikely to happen anytime soon, under the watchful gaze of the partisans.

ANGUISH LANGUISH The imprecise use of language continues to add to the general confusion, if not always intentionally. Even Mr. Kristof, a highly-trained journalist, in the midst of staunchly defending science against the assault of the religious right, uses believe in an imprecise way: “only 40 percent of Americans believe in evolution.” This is colloquial usage, of course. But evolution is not a belief that scientists cling to. Educated people do not hold to a deep belief that the Earth circles the Sun. It is believed, taken to be fact, in that it is extrapolated from substantial evidence. From a perspective of Zen-inspired logic, whether or not the Earth circles the sun, or vice-versa, is a matter of relative location. Hardly worth the knock-down, drag-out fights this little debate engendered in history. From the perspective of the sun, the planets are circling it. At the very epicenter of the sun, an admittedly ambiguous and indeterminate locus, the sun itself is rotating around its center, which is, relatively speaking, a still point. All of the solar system planets, and their moons, are rotating around the sun, as well. But from the perspective of any one of the nine planets (eight, discounting Pluto, as is the current fashion), everything else in the solar system, and the Universe, by extension, is rotating around it. Each has a center that is still. Similarly, each person is the center of their Universe. Everything else is rotating around the individual, like so many satellites. We are all the protagonists of our own stories. Which are mostly based on beliefs, that reinforce the self-centric story. But we are, physically, centered.

WATCH YOUR MOUTH Belaboring the meaning of belief is not just splitting semantic hairs, for the sake of argument. In the vernacular, I believe means the speaker assumes something to be true, as opposed to competing ideas. But a scientist should be more disciplined, particularly in the arena with religious believers. R. Buckminster Fuller pointed to the inanity of competent scientists referring to up and down as meaningful, or to the sun rising and setting, as unthinking misuses of language, which only serve to exacerbate our limited, mythical, or magical views of reality. Scientists know better, from their analysis of indirect evidence, as do more and more ordinary folks. From the time our ancestors stood erect, to the paradigm-shifting impact of spectacular images from the space program, the image of spaceship Earth has evolved. The language has not. Fuller argued for a more responsible, disciplined use of language in order to minimize imprecision, and to impress upon the public mind, a higher approximation of the way reality is. The use, and misuse, of language is a large part of the current problem. Scientists would do themselves and others a favor, by being more rigorous when articulating their views in words. Especially in light of widespread technical ignorance, on the part of the public, and the flagrant abuse of scientific terms, on the part of the religious right.

SUBLIMINAL DATA In common parlance, we refer to the evidence of our senses, as if it were a given. Fuller was one of the first to point to the emerging world—the information revolution—in which sensory information would become less and less important. The truly critical data becomes increasingly inaccessible to the senses:

…he points out how mankind is moving from the tangible world which can be evidenced by sight, sound, smell and touch, into the invisible world of energy, ions, electrical forces, etc., so much so that “99.9999% of what effects our reality will be undetectable by our senses. He states “man must learn to think for himself, rather than follow blindly what he has been taught.” “As the astronauts stated, the words ‘up’ and ‘down’ have no meaning. The correct words are ‘out’ and ‘in.’ This was confirmed when mankind learned the Earth was round, not flat.”

The diminishing ability of the senses, to discern and process critical and accurate information affecting our day-to-day existence, is undeniable. It is also ever-more-difficult to keep up, with the phenomenal, and accelerating, advances of science, This is, for some, a source of anxiety, which is usually related to our survival instinct. That “man must learn to think for himself, rather than follow blindly what he has been taught” is equally applicable to science and religion. Buddhism emphasizes this kind of self-reliance, and distrust of second-hand wisdom, characterized by the last teachings of Buddha. On his deathbed, he is said to have instructed his disciples not to take even his word for the truth he taught, but to check it out for themselves. His teaching would be their guide, but only their own experience in meditation would reveal the absolute truth. Zen, then, is the ultimate application of Do thou likewise.

REVERSE EVOLUTION Our citizenry’s grasp of evolution, the general outlook, awareness and understanding, is at least as bleak as that for mathematics, according to an online report written by David Masci, a senior research fellow at the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life:

Recent polls indicate that challenges to Darwinian evolution have substantial support among the American people. According to a July 2005 survey sponsored by the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life and the Pew Research Center for the People & the Press, 60 percent believe that humans and other animals have either always existed in their present form or have evolved over time under the guidance of a Supreme Being. Only 26 percent agree with Darwin that life evolved through natural selection. Finally, the poll found that 64 percent of Americans support teaching creationism alongside evolution in the classroom.

Thus continues the unveiling of the fundamental anxiety underlying rationalists’ concerns. Statistics justify a fear of backsliding, to a medieval-like level of ignorance and superstition. An understandable source of dismay, fueled by the antics of the religious right and their cronies. It is equally dismaying, that the majority percentages revealed in such polls, tend to lend entirely undeserved credibility to uninformed opinion. Ignorance, like misery, loves company. The followers of Buddhism share, with the proponents of evolution, a studied indifference to opinion and debate. It doesn’t really matter, whether or not someone agrees with Buddhist teachings of the causes and conditions of existence; any more than it really matters, whether the great mass of public opinion embraces evolution. It is what it is. The Buddhist teachings are not offered up for casual consideration, or divisive debate. They simply say—like it or not—this is the way it is. Evolution is likewise, stubbornly intransigent. Like death, taxes, and gravity, the operative principles of the Universe simply sit there, protestations to the contrary, biding their time. They don’t care whether anyone believes in them. Masci’s report goes on to differentiate the scientific viewpoint, from that of the great unwashed:

This view is not shared by the nation’s scientists, most of whom reject challenges to evolution. They often describe the most recent challenger — intelligent design — as little more than creationism dressed up in scientific jargon. Many scientists don’t even want to debate intelligent design proponents, arguing that doing so would give the movement a legitimacy it does not deserve.

Here is the heart of the nightmare for scientists. An uneducated public, defensive of its religious beliefs, and unable or unwilling to do the hard work, e.g. the math, necessary to any meaningful grasp of the truths of science. Whipped into a frenzy by a cabal of partisans and rant media, the mob turns out with pitchforks, torches and clubs, to eradicate the monster and restore godliness. The debate is mounted as a diversionary sideshow, to distract attention from machinations off- camera and behind-the-scenes. During debate, terms are enlisted for political purposes, disguised as serious argument. Evolution is dismissed as “just a theory, not a fact” as if this has any meaning. That the author of this canard must not even understand the scientific meaning of theory, or fact; or worse, is intentionally dissembling; is lost in the hubbub, lost on the mob.

SELF SURVIVAL The ordinary, discriminating mind is oriented toward survival, and will select out information based on that bias, to the exclusion of other data not necessary to survival. This is called the clinging mind in Zen, and is regarded as a hindrance to higher understanding. What it is designed to ensure the survival of, is the species itself, according to science—the biological imperative. Altruistic actions, often witnessed in the human and animal world, seem to contradict this theory. That caveat aside, from a personal viewpoint, it is the self that is struggling to survive. This self, in Buddhism, is what is directly called into question. This questioning, is, thus, not simply a religious, or philosophical exercise, but scientific as well. However, inquiry into the self is usually relegated to the soft sciences, such as philosophy or psychology. Soft, as their findings are not necessarily measurable, nor verifiable by a third party. Measurement in the social sciences usually consists of statistical surveys, which yield some quantifiable data. But on an individual level, the findings may not apply. And verification by others cannot prove an absolute. The evidence founders on the fact that our minds are separate. That human consciousness cannot be made a subject for objective measurement, and independent verification, does not negate its reality. That there is no true objectivity is a well-worn tenet of the social sciences. This is confirmed in zazen, where subjectivity and objectivity are equally called into question.

BODY-MIND Body and mind are not separable in Zen; they are not-two. The so-called mind-body problem, or mind-brain duality, a basic tenet of Western philosophy, does not pose a problem in Zen. The well-known wave-particle duality from quantum physics may provide a useful metaphor for Zen’s perspective on mind-body duality, even though none of us may understand the former. Particles, e.g. of matter, or even of light (photons), exhibit wave-like properties as well as behavior associated with particles. Let that be the extent of our technical dissertation. In this framework, we may regard the body as particulate, being composed as it is of atoms, molecules, cells and larger agglomerations thereof, such as organs, muscle, bone and skin. Then the mind may likewise be regarded as the complementary, wave-like manifestation, particularly of the brain, but also of the central nervous system. Senses operate on an energetic level, as we have seen, where the retina of the eye, for example, reacts to light impacting its surface rods and cones, by transmitting impulses to the brain, accompanied by chemical reactions in the retina itself. The ear reacts to pressures of compressed air, as waves, beating upon the ear drum, which in turn are transmitted as sound to the brain for interpretation. Thus, it is not usefully logical to separate the so-called physical from the purely mental, or matter from energy, when we consider consciousness. In Zen, these are particular case examples of a larger general principle: the essentially delusive, or incomplete, nature of dualistic views of reality. Wikipedia gives a generally useful, if not dependably authoritative, overview of dualism:

A generally well known version of dualism is attributed to René Descartes (1641), which holds that the mind is a nonphysical substance. Descartes was the first to clearly identify the mind with consciousness and self-awareness and to distinguish this from the brain, which was the seat of intelligence. Hence, he was the first to formulate the mind-body problem in the form in which it exists today.

Buddhism insists that body and mind cannot, in fact, be separated, though of course they may be spoken of separately. That is, mind arises out of body; body arises out of mind. They are interdependent in origination. Because body and mind cannot separate in Zen, when making effort with the body in meditation, simultaneously there is effort of the mind. In zazen, we don’t think of the mind as doing the meditating, and resultant from that, having a side effect on the body. Body and mind come together as one reality, in zazen. When the body enters into equipoise, the mind follows, into equanimity. Their conditions, condition each other. Again, mind in Zen is not simply mentation, but includes heart, feeling or emotion. The intellectual cannot be separated from the emotional. The equanimity that ensues from zazen is characterized by mental clarity and emotional calm, but it is based in physiology. The intellectual and emotional cannot be separated from the physical. Their interface is interactive and entangled. Body-mind, and all other apparently separately paired phenomena actually co-arise, dependent upon each other, according to Buddhism. This teaching contradicts our conception of things as separate entities. The important point here, is that separation of body and mind, must be seen for what it is: an idea about reality, not the reality as it is. It is just a theory, to quote the ID mantra, however much human perception is biased in favor of duality. Theoretical approaches to understanding are felt to be speculative in Zen, and take second place to direct experience. Again, this parallels the scientific testing of theory in the laboratory. In zazen, we do not find any separation of body-mind; in fact, quite the opposite. Zazen eventually works its magic, a unifying effect on our perception of body and mind, as not-two. This emphasis on findings, common to all forms of research, is central to zazen. It implies great trust in our ability to find the truth for ourselves, if we have the patience to stick with Zen.

MEDITATION AND SCIENCE While the peak attainments of humanity pale, in comparison to the inconceivable universe in which it finds itself, certain discoveries and creations, including those of Einstein, reach such rarefied heights that they approach divine insight. Among these are the meditation, insights, and teachings of Buddhism. Buddhism propagates and preserves one of the most precious treasures in human history, discovered by the historical Buddha in desperation, in meditation. Zen, in particular, claims to transmit its experiential essence, via its unique approach to meditation. Zazen, and its effect on consciousness, reside precisely at the juncture of science and spirituality. It constitutes a legacy that the human race cannot afford to ignore, or reject. On the BBC News web site, at http://news.bbc.co.uk, an article titled Meditation mapped in monks is illustrative of some of the modern techniques applied to the mysteries of meditation, from a scientific perspective, and inroads being made into how, precisely, it works:

Scientists investigating the effect of the meditative state on Buddhist monks’ brains have found that portions of the organ previously active become quiet, whilst pacified areas become stimulated. Dr. Andrew Newberg, a radiologist at the University of Pennsylvania, US, told BBC World Service's Discovery programme: “I think we are poised at a wonderful time in our history to be able to explore religion and spirituality in a way which was never thought possible.”

The question is, how to study the inner world scientifically? What is the long-term benefit of scientific study of meditation, as opposed to simply practicing it? Development of credible evidence, of the benefits of meditation to a person’s overall physical and mental wellbeing, is certainly a positive goal. Debunking some of the more fantastic claims, of certain promoters of meditation, would also be a welcome demystification. Physical benefits may be demonstrable, through comparative analysis of statistically significant samples, but how can the deeper effects on the individual mind, and heart, be measured? First-person testimony is the qualitative dimension of available, anecdotal evidence: Dr Newberg explained: “During meditation, people have a loss of the sense of self and frequently experience a sense of no space and time and that was exactly what we saw.” Scientific study of both the physical world and the inner world of human experiences are, according to Dr Newberg, equally beneficial. “When someone has a mystical experience, they perceive that sense of reality to be far greater and far clearer than our usual everyday sense of reality,” he said. He added: “Since the sense of spiritual reality is more powerful and clear, perhaps that sense of reality is more accurate than our scientific everyday sense of reality.”

What they actually saw, of course, was not the actual “sense of no space and time,” but brain activity that can be correlated to that experience. A “loss of the sense of self,” even on a temporary basis, would probably be a relief, for most people. But brain-mapping, as far as it goes, can only demonstrate that these states are as real as, for example, dreams; which have also been tied to changes in brain activity. Whether or not anyone takes, at face value, results and claims from scientific studies of meditation, so far they rarely pass the So what? test. They appear to be a bit like chasing the rainbow, where each discovery reveals yet another mystery, just out of reach, and thus needs more study. Most importantly for our thesis, the testimony of others cannot satisfy our own aspiration. We are not satisfied with a description of the taste of the pudding, however complete and eloquent. The article reports similar findings, from venerable Western contemplative traditions associated with theism, that are somewhat similar to Eastern forms of meditation:

The complex interaction between different areas of the brain also resembles the pattern of activity that occurs during other so-called spiritual or mystical experiences. Dr Newberg's earlier studies have involved the brain activity of Franciscan nuns during a type of prayer known as “centering.” As the prayer has a verbal element, other parts of the brain are used, but Dr Newberg also found that they “activated the attention area of the brain, and diminished activity in the orientation area.”

These meditative practices have attributes similar to zazen, but they usually include an object of concentration, such as a verbal element, a hymn, mandala or mantra, the specific content of a prayer, the contemplation of God, and so on. Western subject-object and mind-body dualities are, in other words, intrinsic to this kind of meditation. The question becomes: What more can we expect from meditation, beyond enhancements to our mood, and improvement in our ability to cope with daily life? Of course, dualistic meditations are employed in the preliminary stages of zazen as well, exemplified by observation of breath, attention to posture, and so on. But eventually, zazen becomes truly objectless, and thereby also subject-less. The effect on consciousness of Zen’s non-meditation is, then, beyond mind-body and self-other duality; and thus, beyond measurement. This kind of experience, and any benefit derived from it, naturally defies capture, in a form that would constitute irrefutable evidence, of a scientific nature. Even to classify it as experience, is to imply the most provisional sense of the term. Buddha declared his teaching to be inconceivable, beyond existence and non-existence. The experience of it must also be beyond experience. SCIENCE OF MEDITATION Dr. Einstein’s “Rapturous amazement” is perhaps as good an expression as one could hope to coin, to describe the state of grace—immersion in profound peace and equanimity—that often comes with Zen meditation. This, arguably, may be accurately described as a religious feeling, in that it transforms what is called the ordinary into what might be called the miraculous. In some schools of meditation, a kind of bliss, or ecstasy, is considered the highest state attainable. But how do we know that this state of bliss is not simply a self-induced form of hypnosis, or subliminal conditioning, similar in formation to the kinds of habit-patterns that meditation is intended to correct? And perhaps just as addictive? This is where the scientific side of Zen praxis comes in, given the difficulty of capturing the footprint of something as elusive as meditation, and its effect on consciousness. There is a great corpus of writings, some historical and anecdotal, others scholarly; more and more based on modern scientific methods of inquiry. They are a form of evidence, in the sense of testimony, indicating that meditation works, on many levels. But documenting the complete effect of Zen meditation is like trying to understand yourself by looking in the mirror, or trying to catch the rainbow. The subject is, ultimately, the object of such an enterprise, and so doomed to disappoint. However, it can be asserted that all types of meditation work, in some sense. Most work in helping to lower stress, and coping with life more effectively. The Dalai Lama also defines contemplation practice as experimental, parallel to the scientific method:

I noticed certain similarities… between science and Buddhist thought… The scientific method… proceeds from the observation of certain phenomena… to a theoretical generalization, which predicts the events and results that arise… then tests the prediction with an experiment. The result is accepted… if the experiment is correctly conducted and may be repeated. However, if the experiment contradicts the theory, then it is the theory that needs to be adapted — since the empirical observation of phenomena has priority. I have long been gripped with… the parallels between this form of empirical investigation and those I had learned in my Buddhist philosophical training and contemplative practice.

So far we are all working from the same playbook. Or the same software documentation. Which is gobbledygook, unless you are also working with the application, in real time, on your computer. His Holiness then identifies a key difference between scientific investigation and meditative contemplation, as well as another important trait they have in common:

In one sense the methods of science and Buddhism are different: scientific investigation proceeds by experiment, using instruments that analyze external phenomena, whereas contemplative investigation proceeds by the development of refined attention, which is then used in the introspective examination of inner experience. But both share a strong empirical basis: if science shows something to exist or to be non-existent… then we must accept it. So one fundamental attitude shared by Buddhism and science is the commitment to keep searching for reality by empirical means and to be willing to discard accepted or long-held positions if our search finds that the truth is different. Openness to experience, and willingness to modify received wisdom in the light of empirical evidence, are attitudes characteristic of both Zen Buddhism and science. Buddhist scripture is to be revised or discarded, as is scientific theory, if disproved by experiment. Bodhidharma, the 28 th ancestor in India and the first in China (4-6th C. AD), is credited with a saying that implies that Zen Buddhism’s truth is dependent upon experience, not scripture:

A special transmission outside the scriptures; No dependence upon words and letters; Direct pointing to the soul of man: Seeing into one’s own nature and attainment of Buddhahood

This means that in Zen training, experience trumps doctrine. But it must be genuine, inner experience, the final content of “refined attention.” Buddhist teaching originated in Buddha’s direct insight, and the two—scriptural study and practical experience—cannot be separated. Our experience on the cushion must be understood in light of Buddhism’s teachings; and the teachings can be truly understood only in the light of experience, both on and off the cushion. The choice of the term soul, here, is an example of the limitations of translation. Buddhism does not teach the existence of a soul, quite the opposite. Again, the Wikipedia sangha weighs in:

In Buddhist philosophy , anatta (Pali) or anatman (Sanskrit) refers to the notion of “not-self”… it is not meant as a metaphysical assertion, but as an approach for gaining release from suffering. In fact, the Buddha rejected both of the metaphysical assertions “there is a self” and “there is not a self” as ontological views that bind one to suffering. An agglomeration of constantly changing physical and mental constituents (“skandhas”) is thoroughly analyzed and stated not to comprise a self.

Note that this refutation of soul is not presented as an assertion, a position that would necessarily trigger debate, or argument, from Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, or Christian contingents. The soul (atman) of Buddha’s time in India, has little or nothing in common with the Christian concept of soul. There was no Christianity at the time, of course. For example, the atman was reincarnated lifetime after lifetime. Christianity’s soul is a one-time-only appearance. The soul, or self, in Zen, is a matter to be investigated, rather than a belief, one way or the other. The place to investigate it, and all other such concepts of ontological reality, is, you guessed it, on the cushion. In meditation, the medium of investigation is consciousness itself. Zen holds that a deeper, clearer grasp of reality is available directly, if we only take the time, and invest the effort, to explore it.

UNDERSTANDING MEANING Someone once said that Zen is concerned with the understanding of meaning. This may seem somewhat circular, but understanding, and meaning, are not really redundant, or interchangeable. We can understand how something works, for example, yet have no clue as to its meaning. Or can grasp the meaning of something, while admitting that we do not understand it. As meaning is more within the province of the philosophical, spiritual, or the religious, rather than science, in that sense Zen is a religious endeavor. Those who practice Zen generally feel that it is also scientific, in that it relies on direct experience, rather than on a belief system. It is open-ended and empirical in method, though its evidence is not external, or sensory in nature, or measurable. It is replicable, through the practice- experience of others, but does not produce hard data. Zazen does provide some basis for comparison. In prior chapters, Samadhi is dissected, as a part of the process of Zen, as well as a central effect, one that can be perceived, if subtly. In that wise, we can measure progress in Zen meditation. Unlike athletic prowess, however, it is difficult to impossible to establish a regimen for measuring increments in performance, such as bench pressing another 100 pounds. We do develop the capacity to sit comfortably, and for longer periods of time, without untoward resistance. There is an evolution of our appreciation of meaning, as well, however imperceptible. The meaning of Zen Buddhist practice and teachings becomes clear, not only through scholarly study and engagement with community, but mainly through sitting in meditation. Zazen provides a robust and effective method to contemplate, and more fully comprehend the true condition of existence. It consists of a highly articulated upright posture, natural deep breathing, and open attention to everything without discrimination. It never gets old, but we do. The teachings of Buddhism were, after all, first found in the meditation of the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni. They were discovered, or revealed. He did not learn his great truth, or find his salvation, with a teacher, which is one reason he is greatly admired. As opposed to worshipped, as Christ typically is. The buddhadharma was then expounded, following, and as a result of, his deep experience. It was an effort to clarify that experience for others, so that they might do likewise. In this way, it is like scientific proof; findings follow experiment. And, through analysis, they set the parameters for the next test. Consumer, or social research is different from laboratory, or library research. But it may provide a handy model for the kind of process we go through in Zen. A typical project has four stages. First, we design the study to address the problem as defined by the client. Second, we field the study, interviewing a sample of individuals or groups as appropriate, following the study design. Third, the findings gathered are analyzed, qualitatively and quantitatively, depending again on the design intent. Fourthly, the findings are reported, along with conclusions and recommendations for action. In larger projects, the action recommended may consist of another phase, in which the same process, of four steps, is repeated, but with different focus and a different sample of respondents. As mentioned before, zazen, as a creative endeavor, can be seen as working directly with the medium of consciousness, rather than canvas and paint, music and instrumentation, or choreography and dance. Consciousness works through consciousness, to grasp consciousness. Similarly, as analogous to a form of research, the person who designs, fields, analyzes, and reports the findings, conclusions, and recommendations, is the same person. But everything else changes. Each time we return to the cushion, we enter into the next phase, then the next, then the next. We never go back, and the data we gather is ever-changing, yielding new findings. Meditation, in Zen Buddhism, is not a means to the end of enlightenment, and so is continued even after insight, as in Buddha’s case, and for a similar reason: to continue to clarify the depths of our experience to ourselves, and for others. Skillful means must be employed to clarify the process for others, and in that spirit the prior chapters endeavored to suggest in detail how zazen works, and why it is bound to be effective if practiced assiduously. If we sit still enough, long enough, it is bound to work; but how it works is different from other meditations.

This chapter amplifies upon the idea that scientific and religious endeavors have, at base, a common aspiration. It claims that the insight of Buddha ranks among the highest achievements of human beings, in understanding the universe, and our place in it. And, that that same insight is universally available, to any and all willing to invest time and effort in its exploration, much like repeatedly mounting a laboratory experiment, a research study, or a creative project. We reviewed fundamental ideas that are foundational to Zen, and Buddhist philosophy, in the context of scientific skepticism. While Buddhism is widely regarded as one of the great religions of the world, it doesn’t fit the model of theistic, belief-based, scriptural systems. Instead, Zen’s meditation is its central, quasi-scientific method for exploring spiritual reality. Philosophical dimensions of Zen Buddhism are qualified by the understanding that they are inaccessible, without significant practice of Zen meditation. Buddhists are not unaware of the nearly intractable stubbornness of the clinging mind, the desire-driven nature, of humankind. This desire, craving or clinging, is clearly the underlying and unifying modus operandi of the religious, as well as the scientific, worldview. It ranges from thirst for air, water, food and comfort, to thirst for knowledge and salvation. Religious proponents of creationism, or ID, seem reluctant to examine the underlying premises of their beliefs, in the cold light of scientific scrutiny. Science at least professes to examine; hopes to understand; and promises, if necessary, to abandon; even its own, deepest biases. Like scientists, Buddhists nurture a kind of faith that does not depend upon belief in doctrine, nor upon divine creation of the universe. Buddhist faith is entrusted in the original nature of humankind, and the innate potential of each being to realize that potential. This potential does not depend on the practice of any religion, philosophy, or spiritual practice such as Buddhism. It is a real, innate birthright, and as such cannot be dependent upon any specific activity, be it prayer, meditation, or scientific investigation. So there is really no demonstrable theory, as to the connection of cause and effect, in spiritual insight. A scientist is as capable of this awakening as a theist, perhaps even more so. Zen Buddhism offers perhaps the most rational approximation to a religion, that complements the worldview of the scientist. Central to its praxis is zazen, which any scientist can embrace without fear of compromising scientific principles of empirical method, or engaging in mystical fantasy. Science can surely be considered a spiritual quest, can it not? Zen welcomes the unforgiving examination that science can bring to it. It can withstand the scrutiny.

In the next chapter we will return to the question of evolution, in the context of a Universe in which intelligence is not excised from its existence, to reside exclusively in an elusive deity. It will explore the proposition that evolution is the intelligence of the Universe, as being, and that the separation of reality into physical and spiritual dimensions is just another example of dualistic thinking. Certain it is that a conviction, akin to religious feeling, of the rationality or intelligibility of the world lies behind all the scientific work of a higher order. This firm belief — a belief bound up with deep feeling — in a superior mind that reveals itself in the world of experience, represents my conception of God. In common parlance this may be described as “pantheistic” (Spinoza) — Albert Einstein

Those who refuse to learn from history are condemned to relive it — George Santayana

C. INTELLIGENT EVOLUTION

In this chapter we will revisit the ongoing debate between far right, conservative Christianity, and some of the defenders of their attacks on rationalism, particularly the theory of evolution. We will do so from a Zen perspective, with an eye toward eliciting the meaning of intelligence as well as that of evolution, and determining what relationship may exist between the two ideas. An intentionally lengthy, and necessary, recap of reportage on the recent, highly publicized Dover trial will provide the springboard, and pay homage to the importance of its outcome to harmony in our culture. It seems to expose the emperor’s same old clothes, underlying the religious right’s argument. From a practical standpoint, recounting it in some detail also pays obeisance to the short- term memory span of our 24-hour news cycle. Hopefully, practicing this brand of due diligence in the mindfulness of remembrance, will help to obviate another monkey trial eighty years hence. Hopefully. The more central intent is to debunk an attitude that we find inherent in both science and religion, that intelligence can be separated from evolution. In doing so, we will revisit points made earlier, but apropos to this context. The phrase intelligent evolution is selected advisedly, to suggest that the theory of evolution, itself, constitutes a profound insight into the intelligence of the Universe, itself. That is, there is nothing unintelligent about nature, sentient or insentient. This is, to state the obvious, in opposition to the religious belief that an unseen, divine intelligence is lurking, just unseen, behind the façade of reality. And it goes counter to the scientific bias that intelligence is limited to human beings, and to a lesser extent, sentient beings, as a given. Both of these premises seem self-contradictory, though widely accepted. We propose that evolution, as an elegantly clear pattern discerned by humanity, may be regarded as a manifestation of universal intelligence. The mind of God, if you will, but not as external to the material universe itself. That is, it is innate; needs no other intelligence to guide it; and is not limited to species, or even kingdom, as a general operative principle. If we assume that the Universe is itself intelligent, the issue of the existence, or non-existence, of an Intelligent Designer, is decoupled from the fact of existence, and thereby rendered superfluous, or moot. In Zen, the emphasis is on the uncreated, or more abruptly, the uncreate. This term captures the flip side of creation, a recognition of the innate impermanence of all that is created, and the infinite regression that unfolds when we attempt to find the origin, or first cause. According to Buddhism, the first cause is not known, cannot be known, notwithstanding creation myths and the Big Bang. Of course, people did not create the universe, nor even themselves, so this does not amount to an arrogation of creation to humanity. The universe is itself, after all, a being, or at least, being—the only state of being that anyone actually experiences. That it contains infinite numbers of beings, does not contradict its unity. That intelligent life arises from it ,suggests that intelligence is probably necessarily inherent in the Universe itself. Under this principle, human and animal, animal and plant, plant and mineral, plant and human, human and mineral, and, thus, sentient and insentient, cannot be sundered. Likewise, it seems reasonable that the concepts, and the realities, of intelligence and evolution cannot be meaningfully bifurcated. Not one, but also not-two, the Zen formula for non-duality. This may represent a considerable leap from conventional wisdom, as well as divergence from the colloquial and scientific meaning of the term, intelligent. Consideration of a more metaphysical definition of intelligence as evolution, and evolution as intelligence, may not persuade the skeptic, but will hopefully challenge the casual misuse of both terms. Before reviewing the Dover trial, a few snapshots from the media—necessarily dated, owing to the 24-hour news cycle—to set the context of that time:

ID MEETS IT MAKER As discussed in a prior chapter (see Debate? What Debate?), public media treat all issues in such a way as to exaggerate conflict, inflame the situation and, not coincidentally, sell products and ads. Thus the phrase red meat, in politics and reportage. Of course, not all commentary is intentionally or blatantly inflammatory. New York Times reporter Laurie Goodstein takes a more balanced approach: “To read the headlines, intelligent design as a challenge to evolution seems to be building momentum.” After citing the Kansas board of education and the Dover, PA school board cases, she continues:

President Bush endorsed teaching “both sides” of the debate—a position that polls show is popular. And Pope Benedict XVI weighed in recently, declaring the universe an “intelligent project.” Intelligent design posits that the complexity of biological life is itself evidence of a higher being at work.

Some wag said that we get the leaders we deserve. They sprint to the front of any passing parade that fits, or can be co-opted to fit, their agenda. This illustrates one well-founded fear of the secular scientist. The powers-that-be will lend legitimacy to the most backward and destructive of movements, for the sake of political expediency. Here, of course, there are no both sides; they are not even the same coin, and it is, sadly, only a caricature of a real debate. But it is befitting that the faux middle way garners support, from a president who rode into office on the coattails of his favorite philosopher, Jesus Christ, and was re-elected, truly blessed by a split court decision based on Supreme ideology. Intelligent project the universe may be, but one that is not necessarily directed by a project director. That particular declaration reflects a personal preference, a religious precept harbored by the Pope. Hope, that there is a higher being, is not evidence. That there is. We can be forgiven for wondering what long-term benefits the religious visualize for the world, if everyone else did endorse their viewpoint, without reservation. Would it bring about peace on Earth? Is Utopia dependent upon a Christian, or even only theistic, worldview? How could a world society ever approach the ideal of heaven on earth, short of the actual second coming? Especially when it is predicated on the premise that this world doesn’t really count, other than as the green room offstage, where the stars wait to appear as a guest in the best show of all, eternal glory in heaven. Is this a workable platform for promoting world peace? What would be the point, if the only real peace is possible after death?

SLIM CHANCE One of the straws grasped at by purveyors of ID floats on the proposition that the probability of biological life is so slight—that is, the physical tolerances allowing life, as we know it, so tight—as to be statistically impossible. Then a metaphysical leap, to the notion that therefore, they must have been put in place by a force that intends for life to exist. If the narrow constraints do not reflect intention on someone’s part, then how do we explain them? Another tautological twist on the aforementioned anthropic principle, translating the fact of certain tolerances into the certainty that intention on someone’s part certifies the existence of you-know-Who. It seems absurd that the insentient universe would unintentionally provide the precise parameters to promote the emergence of life, let alone intelligence. Ergo, theists conclude, there must be a separate, outside intelligence that intentionally calibrated and set the parameters, some time before the Big Bang. Which theory they do not find at all absurd, not even equally so. It follows that the creator, Himself, must exist outside that same creation, itself. Otherwise, He would have to be part of His own creation—self-created, and limited by the same precise parameters— which would be absurd. The equally absurd proposition—that in order for existence to exist, a creator who is not part of it must also exist—does not seem absurd to those who are deeply comforted by it. It is difficult to convince folks of the truth of a proposition, when their very existence depends on their not being convinced of it. Or their paychecks. Or both. Speaking of absurdities, the rejection of what is purported to be mere chance or randomness— an accident—sets up an absurd opposition, of chance opposed to God’s intent. This assumes the reality of both: chance occurrence and divine will, mutually reified. But if anything can come about by chance, why not intelligent life? Does God’s intent not anticipate, or include chance? More consensually, granted that everything is the product of divine will, why must that will necessarily be separate, disembodied from its manifestation in the Universe? Irreconcilable differences, good enough for divorce in most states. In Zen Buddhism, it is not necessary to reconcile them. They are based on premises that are irrelevant to immediate, actual needs. Chance, or God’s will, both amount to speculative interpretation. When chance is closely examined, it appears that no actual chance occurrence, an accident, is even possible. This is true in science, as well as in faith-based religion. The absence of chance does not require the will, or intervention, of an intelligent designer. Every cause is an effect, and every effect is a cause. There is nothing random about it. This is particularly true of evolution, as precisely the furthest thing from random chance, and so does not define us as so many accidents. As aforementioned, in the words of Ambrose Bierce, an accident is “an inevitable occurrence due to the action of immutable natural laws.” These laws may be of God, according to a deist, but also reflect natural law, or dharma, sans God. They may simply be mutually-determining. Dharma has the meaning of truth, but also connotes law, as in the laws by which the physical world operates. There is considerable debate, on the scientific side, whether these laws are themselves subject to change over time, i.e. evolving; or whether in certain extreme straits, such as a brush with a black hole, indeed do break down completely. This is an apt metaphor for Zen meditation as well, perhaps for any transformative spiritual revelation. Our laws break down.

SCIENCE OF DESIGN Ms. Goodstein goes on to illustrate one of science’s pet peeves against ID proponents, yet another fatal flaw, their claim of scientific seriousness. Quoting the senior vice president of the Templeton Foundation, mentioned above, as a major supporter of projects seeking to reconcile science and religion (skewed to a pro-religion bias):

“[He] says that after providing a few grants for conferences and courses to debate intelligent design, they asked proponents to submit proposals for actual research. ‘They never came in. From the point of view of rigor and intellectual seriousness, the intelligent design people don’t come out very well in our world of scientific review,’ he said.” If the proponents of intelligent design will not even submit a proposal for meaningful research, how can they expect to be taken seriously?

“Meaningful research” is based upon what can actually be shown as evidence, that is, findings. It is difficult to imagine how a proposal to positively prove the existence of God would marshal evidence, or what the specific, irrefutable findings might consist of. Then from the relative middle of the religious contingent, Goodstein quotes a plea for honesty and integrity from Derek Davis, director of the J. M. Dawson Institute of Church-State Studies at Baylor:

“I teach at the largest Baptist university in the world. I’m a religious person. And my basic perspective is intelligent design doesn’t belong in science class.” Mr. Davis noted that the advocates of intelligent design claim they are not talking about God or religion. “But they are, and everybody knows they are… I just think we ought to quit playing games. It’s a religious worldview that’s being advanced.”

One does have to wonder why we play such games. Don’t we have the strength of our convictions to admit that we are promoting a Christian, theistic religious belief? What do we have to fear from being honest? Scientists seem to have no problem showing their hand, to the degree that it can be shown. Some forthrightness, rather than righteousness, from the religious right would be welcome, and probably much more effective, in this context. Finally, from the intelligent design fringe, she reports on John G. West, who mounts a reverse gambit, an intellectually dishonest manipulation of labels, in attempting to define his opponent, using tactics more typical of politics than of legitimate debate:

John G. West, a political scientist and senior fellow at the Discovery Institute, the main organization supporting intelligent design, said the skepticism and outright antagonism are evidence that the scientific “fundamentalists” are threatened by its arguments. “This is natural anytime you have a new controversial idea,” Mr. West said. “The first stage is people ignore you. Then, when they can’t ignore you, comes the hysteria. Then the idea that was so radical becomes accepted. I’d say we’re in the hysteria phase. The future of intelligent design is tied up with academic endeavors. It rises or falls on the science.”

Our opponents’ skepticism and outright antagonism are evidence of something, all right, but not necessarily that they feel threatened by us. Skepticism is considered healthy in scientific circles. Antagonism is a predictable pushback against disingenuousness. And how controversial is the same old creationist talking-points gussied up in new drag? Does this really qualify as an idea? We may be forgiven our skepticism, if not our antagonism. The former is also encouraged in Buddhism, the latter proscribed. It is said that Buddha’s last words to his disciples included the admonition not to take his words at face value, but to work out their own salvation. Skepticism is tempered by, and informs, our confirming or contradicting experience, in zazen and daily life. Practically speaking, the time “when they can’t ignore you” comes at the point that your political lobbying has successfully undercut their funding. The goal is clearly to undermine any scientific inquiry that does not fit creation ideology, and so threatens the hegemony of Christian belief, such as stem cell research. The threat to secular science is not from the ID argument, but from its followers’ political clout, the last refuge of the losers of any debate. The assertion that the future of ID is tied up with “academic endeavors” is ominous, given the political activism of its promoters. And it is self-contradictory, outside the political context. How can the so-called theory of Intelligent Design rise and fall on the science, when it is intrinsically anti- science? ID proponents resolve the contradiction by insisting that science revise its precepts, precisely to align with those of the religious right. That in itself is a questionable proposition, made all the more so by the fact that there seems to be no give in the other direction.

SCOPES REDUX RECAP We begin with a review of the legal climax of the current skirmish, which came to a head in Dover, PA. Most of our quotes are intentionally selected from popular media, in order to capture a snapshot of the public dialog, which the reader may not have followed. With the advent of the Obama election, the political backdrop of the debate has shifted. How much, remains to be seen. John Witte Jr., Director, Center for the Study of Law and Religion at Emory University, positions the recent school board trial as a throwback to an earlier time:

Eighty years ago, the nation stood transfixed by the spectacle of two giants, William Jennings Bryan and Clarence Darrow, fighting valiantly over the place of creation and evolution in the public school. Bryan, three-time presidential candidate, defended creationism as “inerrant fact” and denounced evolution as “atheistic fiction.” Darrow, representing the new American Civil Liberties Union, insisted that evolution was “scientific fact” and creationism “obsolete myth.” Bryan won the argument. But the 1925 Scopes case was a storm signal of many battles to come. This fall, the nation stood transfixed again by the same battle rejoined in Dover, Pa. — now pitting proponents of intelligent design against the ACLU. This time the ACLU won. It seems hardly fair to consider the latest dust-up “the same battle”; we would like to think that human intelligence has evolved in the eighty years since. But the debate this time is on a less exalted plane that four score years ago. And this victory, like its predecessors in this seemingly eternal tug-of- war, is not definitive, only a temporary setback for the ID defendants, as Mr. Witte explains:

…the Dover decision is legally very narrow. It applies only to a single district in Pennsylvania, not to the whole nation. The decision precludes intelligent design only from public school science classes. It does not preclude it from public school classes in philosophy, cosmology, literature and more. Yes, the First Amendment establishment clause prohibits religion in public schools. But the…free exercise clause protects religion in private schools. While confessional creationism is barred from public schools, it is welcome in private schools, including their science classes. This two-sided compact on religion and education strikes me as a prudent way to negotiate the nation’s growing pluralism.

So here is one example of a prudent attempt to define a middle ground—by defining separate ground. It seems a useful division of public versus private, an approach that appears obvious once pointed out. Why spend so much time and effort trying to control what happens in the public schools? Why not just make religion in schools the purview of private schools, which sidesteps the legal hassles? The answer is also obvious. Public schools are the low-hanging fruit. And control of them is on the ideological agenda of the crusaders. Mr. Witte goes on to excoriate both left and right, for the unnecessary costs of the war of ideas:

The right has spent untold millions the past two decades trying to introduce bland prayers, banal morals, and now bleached theology into public schools. That money should have funded a national scholarship and voucher program that gives real educational choice to the poor. The left has spent untold millions more trying to cut religious schools and their students from equal access to funds, facilities and forums available to others. That money could have shored up many public schools that are failing. We have the luxury of litigating about religious symbolism. But we would do better if we tended to the weightier matters of the law.

We have the luxury of manufacturing problems we can afford to have. Once the hunter- gatherers have laid up enough roots and berries in the larder, their attention turns to other matters. The law is not the only area of life that is trivialized in the process of making up new things to worry about. We would presume “weightier matters of the law” to include the dictum, that public schools should fulfill their obligation to actually prepare students for life, in a highly competitive world. Yet the performance of American students persistently falls behind that of other nations. Teaching beyond the test, rather than to the test—learning critical thinking skills, rather than rote memory—is lost in the shuffle, not even under consideration. Prayer trumps pedagogy. Students pay the price.

Preach to the Test Even without proselytizers running interference, the “teach to the test” mentality imposed by their political enablers is a stifling symptom, of the conservative take on what it means to learn. The popular and long-running television game show, Jeopardy, is an American cultural icon. Forgive an over-simplification of the intellectual challenges and emotional pressure of the game, but it is still highly symptomatic of our obsession with fact-based learning. Winners are justifiably held in high regard, but their competitive edge amounts to rapid retrieval of a mental rolodex of data—facts and figures, dates and lists. Which is what teaching creationism would amount to, except that there would be no facts to memorize. But is this ability to store, and retrieve, a mind-full of otherwise useless information, a meaningful measure of intelligence? Has mindfulness come to this, if you will permit a pun? More to the point, is religious belief conducive—let alone necessary—to the refinement of intelligence? Or is it a luxury we cannot afford, especially as the content of curricula? There is so much to be learned, so little time. From the perspective of Buddhism, religion is not separate from education, nor is either regarded as a fertile field for indoctrination. This is because there is no apostolic imperative, in Zen, to spread the gospel, or more urgently, to save souls from perdition. Spreading religious teaching is a form of education, whether in a Buddhist, or Christian, context. But in the former, it is primarily oriented to salvation in this life, not to rebirth in heaven, or to avoiding eternity in hell. It is one of the more curious anomalies, for Buddhists observing the practice of Christianity, that we could be convinced that we are saved, regarding what is going to happen after we die. How, we might ask, respectfully, can anyone know that? In Zen, it is possible to “die on the cushion,” but it is dangerous to extrapolate beyond to eternity. If Zen is a religion, it is religiously devoted to education; and primarily self-education at that. What we are saved from, again, is our own ignorance. Which is a worthy goal of education. The objectives of a religious crusade have little to do with the objectives of education, in the secular domain. Education, in the secular sense, contributes nothing to salvation in the religious sense. Since salvation after death is the object of the religious right, and successful negotiation of daily life is, or should be, the object of secular education, never the twain shall meet. As a caveat, it is clear that some forms of Christian practice, including evangelism, are shifting their focus to application in daily life. But this does not mitigate the undermining influence of the notion of preparing for the afterlife, as the primary focus of this life. What good is an advanced degree from Harvard, in heaven? On the other hand, in hell?

IT’S ALL OVER IN DOVER Matthew Chapman, an Englishman, reports dispassionately, but sympathetically, on the quintessentially American phenomenon of the Dover Area School District trial:

In the case of Kitzmiller v. Dover Area School District, eleven parents sued to remove intelligent design from the curriculum. The defendants brought in some of the leading lights in the intelligent design movement to defend it as a science and elucidate the gaps in evolution. The plaintiffs brought in experts on evolution to explain it and refute intelligent design. I then discovered that many Americans not only rejected the theory of evolution; they reviled it. I had come here in part because I never felt comfortable in England. I hated the snobbery and thought of America as being less weighed down by its past, more advanced. Now here I was in the New World faced with a willful ignorance that went far beyond anything I had ever attempted. True, I did not know much about evolution, but a quick study of the subject showed that 99 percent of scientists believed in it. Why would one doubt them? Did the pedestrian question the theory of gravity? Did the farmer who went to the doctor question his diagnosis? Why in this one area of science did non-experts feel compelled to disagree with those who clearly knew better?

We can’t help but wonder at such willful ignorance—not to mention reviling—indulged in by opponents of evolution. What is driving it? Such a visceral reaction, to what they claim to regard as mere theory, must be connected to a deep-seated paranoia, unreasoning by definition. Mr. Chapman’s phrasing, “99 percent of scientists believed in it” mixes questionable statistics (how did he arrive at 99, exactly?) with colloquial misusage. Again, a scientist would not believe in evolution, certainly not in the way that he or she might believe in God. This may appear to be nit- picking, but language is important, if the goal is clarity. Sloppy usage undermines credibility, particularly of proponents of science, which highly values precision. Most damagingly, it plays into the imprecise assertion that evolution, like creationism, is also a belief, a term the religious right would like to define as interchangeable with just a theory. The school board eventually settled on a compromise approach that they apparently felt appropriate, given that their feelings are fed by soul-saving fervor:

It was eventually agreed that a statement would be read to the ninth-grade science students before they began studying evolution that read in part: “Because Darwin’s Theory is a theory, it continues to be tested as new evidence is discovered. The Theory is not a fact. Gaps in the Theory exist for which there is no evidence. A theory is defined as a well-tested explanation that unifies a broad range of observations. Intelligent Design is an explanation of the origin of life that differs from Darwin’s view. The reference book, Of Pandas and People, is available for students who might be interested in gaining an understanding of what Intelligent Design actually involves.” The science teachers refused to read this, so [the superintendent and assistant superintendent] made sure every ninth grader got to hear it.

Here’s a case of administration overstepping boundaries, assuming greater pedagogical insight than that of their own teaching staff. All at the behest of a board staffed not by educators, but by proselytizers. Fortunately in this case, ninth graders are not generally prone to uncritical acceptance of the wisdom of their elders, be they board, administration, faculty or staff. We can only hope that the natural skepticism of youth toward their elders will act as a prophylactic to the injection of belief-based propaganda into their formative brains. What ID actually involves is rank speculation, which teenagers see through like the emperor’s clothes on a stuffed panda doll. Mr. Chapman quotes an expert witness, Robert Pennock, a professor at Michigan State University, testifying that “evolution is ‘a great exemplar of the scientific method. It’s a well-confirmed inter-linked series of hypotheses, and is useful not just in and of itself but as a way of learning how to think.’” After extolling the benefits and broad application of evolution theory to diverse activities— such as critical thinking—and specifically its application to medicine and engineering, Mr. Chapman again quotes professor Pennock’s “critique of intelligent design with particular attention to William Dembski (a scientist known for defending ID)”:

Pennock read from an article of Dembski’s entitled “What Every Theologian Should Know About Creation, Evolution, and Design”: The view that science must be restricted solely to purposeless naturalistic material processes also has a name. It’s called methodological naturalism. So long as methodological naturalism sets the ground rules for how the game of science is played, IDT [Intelligent Design Theology] has no chance.

It is torturous to witnessing convolutions of pseudo-scientific language hurled at the enemy, hoping something will stick. Why not call it Naturalistic Methodology, capitalized for good measure? Makes as much sense as “methodological naturalism”; or naturalogical Methodism? The question of what we can actually know, rather than should know, is implied, in “What Every Theologian Should Know…” but revealingly, goes unexamined. There are definitely things that can be known about evolution and design, in their secular meanings. But what can actually be known about creation? We assume that theologians already know, everything that can be known, about their own favorite theory. Lumping “…Creation, Evolution, and Design” all together implies that the kind of knowledge accessible in each category is essentially the same, each equally deserving of critical, or uncritical, consideration. For purposes of the pulpit, perhaps there is not really that much we need to know, period. The construction “purposeless naturalistic material processes” is likewise revealing. Who says naturalistic material processes are purposeless? According to Dembski’s own theology, they must be imbued with purpose by their Creator. Otherwise, He is creating them to no purpose whatever. Is God unnatural, if the processes that are not of God are naturalistic? To pick another imprecise nit: methodology is the study of method, itself, or surveying multiple methods. Method should suffice, but it sounds more authoritative when you use more syllables. Notice that the phrase, “how the game of science is played” exposes the win-lose mentality behind Mr. Dembski’s agenda, implying that the debate reflects a competition, implicitly between two competing belief systems, on a level field. This is a game, or crusade, for the hearts and minds of the American people. Not to mention funding from their taxes. Also unexamined: How would Dembski expand science’s ground rules to include theology, exactly? How would we design the bench test? In Buddhism, it is not necessary, nor even intelligent, to separate purpose from nature. The mystery worth considering, from either a spiritual or scientific angle, is precisely its great purpose, of which humankind is a small part. But the proponents of the religious right have long-since abandoned any contemplation of the deeper mystery, in favor of winning the game. Mr. Chapman is blunt about the only appeasement acceptable to ID theorists:

In the words of Vladimir Lenin, “What is to be done?” Design theorists aren’t at all bashful about answering this question. The ground rules of science have to be changed.

But they are not forthcoming about how to change the rules, and still have legitimate science. The Dalai Lama maintains, conversely, that if the findings of science contradict the teachings of Buddhism, it is Buddhism that must adapt. For creationists, the clear implication is that it is scientists who must go back to the drawing boards, if their findings don’t confirm—or conform to—beliefs propounded by ID theorists.

CATHOLIC SCIENCE Pennock was cross-examined by a Patrick Gillen, of the Thomas More Law Center, which inspires Mr. Chapman to ask: All well and good, but if the defense thesis was that intelligent design was merely another scientific theory, what were these Catholic activists doing in court?

Precisely. What are we protecting, if ourone, true God is all-powerful? Why are we on the defensive, if evolution is mere theory? Remember Galileo? That inquisition did not go so well. Proselytizers may, generously, be acting out of genuine concern for the souls that will not gain heaven, owing to lives squandered under the influence of reason, rather than of religion. The cross-examination of Pennock did not go so well for the defenders of the faith, either:

Gillen began by asking Pennock questions designed to show that just because a theory (such as the Big Bang) confirms some people in their religious beliefs, it is not necessarily unscientific. Pennock quickly sliced this up into its constituent parts and disposed of it. People could believe what they wanted; that was neither his business, nor particularly interesting: all that counted was the evidence.

There’s that devilishly inconvenient concept again, evidence. Scientists do believe, in the secular sense, that a theory such as the Big Bang may be, or most likely is, actually true. This kind of belief, however, is subject to change as soon as any credible evidence to the contrary is discovered. Labeling it a belief, akin to religious belief, is disingenuous at best; at worst, cynical, and a disservice to the public they claim as their flock.

HOLY EVIDENCE Any theist seriously devoted to establishing evidence that God does, actually, exist, faces the challenge of redefining what is meant by evidence. Conveniently, if someone is to present evidence that God does not exist, they must prove a negative. This is a false choice, plucked from the politician’s bag of cheap tricks, and should be beneath the dignity of serious theological debate. If knowingly deployed as a tactic, it is just another cynical catch 22, gotcha theology. It may be appropriate to remind everyone, here, that the why question, the central question of philosophy or religion, morphs into Who, irresistibly, all unconsciously, for the theist. The imputation of a who behind creation finds its provenance in our belief in the existence of the self-soul. This marks a basic break with Buddhism, where the who of the self is highly suspect. The self-soul is, then—by a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy—projected as a human-based image onto the form, nature, and necessity, of God. Both the soul, and a personal God, are who-class answers to the fundamental questions of existence. Pennock’s, and Darwin’s, how question, regarding developmental mechanism, is misconstrued by Gillen as a competing attempt to answer the fundamental why question, following from his belief-based mindset. The questions asked by science and religion, and the answers they seek, we reiterate, are not of the same order. The playing field—if this is indeed a game—is not level, not even on the same plane. Evolution constitutes a threat only to a God whose preeminence can be threatened, by such a theory. Chapman finds a pickier fault with the science side as well:

I had only one problem with Pennock—and in fact with all the scientists who spoke: their use of unnecessarily obscure words. As if the science wasn’t hard enough to follow, Pennock would use a word like “qua” instead of “as” or “by virtue of being.” For example, he said, “sometimes people will speak qua scientist, and sometimes they will speak about something from their own personal views.”

This is a bit like Catholics resorting to Latin to mystify and mollify their listeners. It’s just inner-circle jargon. If we, as scientists, are seriously interested in persuasion, we probably should watch our mouths. Any air of condescension puts off even the most sympathetic listener. On the other hand, if we as religious folk are serious about persuading those who are not religious, we might be a bit more hesitant to claim unearned, unearthly authority, in an attempt to arrogate undeserved weight, to our personal opinions. Constantly referring to God, God’s word or God’s will, as if they are personally and uniquely anointed to speak for God, is a distinct turnoff. The skeptical listener—presumably the target of the message—does not react to this habit as devotion, but as arrogance. More generously, it may be an unconscious, nervous tic. The religious would also be well advised to develop some empathy for logic, and for logical construction of communications. Communication is not the message sent, but the message received. If both sides insist on spewing jargon, neither is genuinely interested in communicating with, let alone persuading, the opposition, which is the ostensible objective of honest debate. If neither side is genuinely interested in persuasion, what is the point of pretending to debate in the first place?

POLITICAL SCIENCE Well, there is safety, and profit, in numbers. It seems that creation theorists are gaining in the area of audience persuasion, if polls are any indication. As Chapman remarks with a tongue-in-cheek critique, this may be attributable to the less-than-stellar appeal of scientists, and their seriously flubbed opportunities, so far, to point out the transparency of the ID emperors’ clothes:

According to a recent U.S. poll, 54 percent of Americans now dispute that man developed from earlier species, which is a 10 percent increase since the last poll, in 1994. Scientists must bear some responsibility for this: they just don’t seem able to provide entertainment the way the other side does… Why haven’t we seen a man of science on TV asking Bush to explain why God, being such a great pal, gave him such lousy intelligence on the WMDs, or demanding an explanation for all the gaps and contradictions in the biblical record?

What did P. T. Barnum say? Maybe scientists recognize the wisdom of letting sleeping dogs, and devils, lie. Comparison of “gaps and contradictions in the biblical record,” to those in the record of evolution, would necessarily suffer from a slight discrepancy built into their respective time scales. The former puts the total at less than six millennia, where the latter is looking at around fifteen billion years and counting. One should think the contest, then, would be unfairly biased toward the biblical, in terms of statistical accuracy. Mr. Chapman then reports that the first defense witness, a Professor Michael Behe of Lehigh University, takes a position defending ID “largely to do with the irreducible complexity of the bacterial flagellum.” Chapman first noted:

Behe’s own department at Lehigh had issued a statement saying that it fully supported evolutionary theory and that: The sole dissenter from this position, Professor Michael Behe, is a well-known proponent of intelligent design. While we respect Professor Behe’s right to express his views, they are his alone and are in no way endorsed by the department. It is our collective position that intelligent design has no basis in science, has not been tested experimentally, and should not be regarded as scientific.

Behe takes a position, in other words, certain to be unpopular with his peers. We may presume that he has tenure. And we thought academia was biased on the side of radical leftists. Chapman’s thoughts return to the issue of the Intelligent Designer; a new take on God as the Great Master of Disguise (usually attributed to Satan):

But I could not get past two thoughts. If an intelligent designer had made the bacterial flagellum, it was logical to assume he had made everything else, and if he had, wasn’t this by definition God? One day, I was having this debate with him [Behe] when another man weighed in, suggesting that since complex machines like the space shuttle are designed by a team, wasn’t it probable that the flagellum was also made by a team? My second thought was that if you looked back at the history of science, you could point to any number of things that, given our knowledge at the time, seemed possible only through the intervention of God but that later turned out too have natural explanations even Behe accepted.

God as flagellum, God as man, God as team-player. God as chameleon, blending in. Yesterday’s miracle is today’s commonplace. Miracles performed by Jesus, or in the name of the saints, are the only ones that count? What is a miracle? More to the point, what is not miraculous? “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” according to Arthur C. Clarke. In contradistinction to the miracles of Jesus, Buddha specifically warned his followers against displays of paranormal powers that may develop in meditation. It would only serve to mislead others as to the intent of insight meditation, as well as distracting from the import and intent of spiritual practice in daily life. What is more miraculous than the ordinary? Here, again, we see our hard-wired, knee-jerk opposition of Nature and God, as if one explanation categorically excludes the other. Why isn’t God considered natural? Why not Nature-as- God? Where does this basic separation, of sacred and mundane, find its origin? How is it that natural explanations necessarily exclude spirituality? Zen Buddhism holds that the perceived gulf between common and sacred, natural and spiritual, is a delusion that can be overcome, through meditation, analysis and insight. The complementary pairs always and only coexist in reality. Insight, however profound, doesn’t change reality. But true spirituality does not discriminate sacred from profane. The entire Universe comprises the body of buddha, including every being within it. It doesn’t follow, however, that all beings are aware of their spiritual nature. Waking up to that original nature is a miracle of the first order, but absolutely ordinary.

ID ECONOMICS Chapman then raises the unlovely head of commercialism, undeniably a motivational motor of the debate: “I couldn’t help wondering what Behe would be without intelligent design. The scientific community may despise him, but he is beloved on the other side. He gets invited to talk all over the country, and he has sold a lot of books.” So Behe is not being difficult, just to be difficult. There’s a buck in it. Plus, the fawning devotion of like-minded fans. But Chapman takes a philosophical view overall: “Things are not what they seem. Or perhaps, more accurately, only on the outer edge do you find the authentic clichés, and when you find them, if you are me, those that you hate often turn out to be more poignant than repellent.” Again, when we get beyond labels of bible-thumper and test-tuber, up-close and personal enough to see the common humanity underlying the caricatures, “We have found the enemy and he is us!” as Pogo philosophized. Hate may be too strong a word, but the polarization witnessed on all ends of the ideological spectrum, seems to guarantee that birds not of a feather never flock together. The comic dimension of poignancy is illustrated by the testimony of one of the local board members, mentioned above, inadvertently creating a caricature: “There’s also statistical things that I’ve read about how the statistical probability of life happening by itself was basically impossible.” Chapman comments sardonically, “I couldn’t help wondering what the statistical probability was of God’s slapping it all together in six days.” Here again, paraphrasing the famous “Depends on what the meaning of is is,” coinage of another recent president; it all depends on what the meaning of day is. A biblical literalist would insist that the term, which has survived multiple translations and revisions over millennia, originally meant exactly what is now meant by a 24-hour cycle day, as in today. Which is never exactly 24 hours, by the way. Further, no two days are exactly the same duration, let alone the length of a year two millennia ago, compared to today, with orbital deterioration factored in. But this is to digress from the theological point. A more flexible reading might allow that in God’s perceptual time scale, what constitutes a day for mere mortals might be a tad longer. From a Zen perspective, the fact that there is no such thing as a day, in reality, would be the starting point, obviating much of the wasted quasi-debates over quantifying angels dancing on pinheads. But then, what would these folks do to earn an honest living? The tragic dimension is touched on, in the concluding paragraphs. The implications bode ill for the future of education, we fear, presaging the explicit know-nothing policies of the Bush administration that have since turned out to be ominous for the nation:

One thing I know is that this small crusade in Pennsylvania was not a narrow assault on ninth-grade science education; it was a war on the scientific method and the value of evidence. What was being said, not just by [the defendants] but by the President and countless others, is that when the evidence is overwhelming and you don’t like it, ignore it.

This is likely the final fatal flaw of the ID campaign. If they insist on duking it out the arena of science, they must ultimately stumble on the overwhelming evidence of the non-existence of concrete evidence. That is why they are taking it to the courts, of public opinion, as well as the stacked Supremes. In closing, Chapman succinctly summarizes the Dover victory, of traditional reason over whatever form of reason the religious side claims to represent, however deceptively:

On December 20, 2005, Judge Jones ruled that the defendants’ intelligent design policy violated the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment. In a withering 139- page opinion, he found that the goal of the intelligent design movement is religious in nature, that intelligent design is not science and cannot be taught in Dover schools… and that “It is ironic that several of these individuals who so staunchly and proudly touted their religious convictions in public, would time and again lie to cover their tracks and disguise the real purpose behind the ID policy.” Amen.

Amen, so be it, indeed. This from a conservative judge appointed by the then-occupant of the white house, a self-styled compassionate conservative. The victory for unblinking reason may yet turn out to be pyrrhic, however, consumed in the passions that continue to inflame the religious right. They will regroup, licking wounds perhaps, but will not go away any time soon. Serendipitously, synchronous with this coverage in Harper’s, Jerry Springer reported on Darwin’s birthday, February 12th, 2006, that people were throwing anti-ID parties in the great man’s honor. Ironically, were Darwin alive today, he may have been a greater defender of ID’s premise than his present-day acolytes tend to be. Darwin himself was known to be an avowed theist, who set out to understand and witness the mind of God in its process of creation—which might just be a theist’s most intelligent interpretation of evolution.

EVOLUTION OF INTELLIGENT DESIGN James Dao writes about the provenance of the expression intelligent design, exposing some historical inaccuracies in ID’s claims:

Words evolve, even those coined by skeptics of evolution. Consider “intelligent design,” a phrase used for over a century by critics of Darwin but only recently bursting into prominence as both a concept and a movement intended to explain, its proponents say, the “irreducible complexity” of nature. According to the Discovery Institute, a group based in Seattle that promotes intelligent design as an alternative to natural selection, the phrase may have first been used by an Oxford scholar, F. C. S. Schiller, who in 1897 wrote, “It will not be possible to rule out the supposition that the process of evolution may be guided by an intelligent design.”

On closer parsing, Schiller, quoted by the Discovery Institute as the first to validate their presumption of an intelligent designer, actually does no such thing. His statement does not explicitly posit a designer, nor does it imply any such hypothesis. The use of design here is not clear, as to its specific connotation of ongoing process versus foreordained intent as analyzed above. The validation is in the intent of the quoter, who may be guilty of wishful imputing. Schiller cautiously terms the notion that the process may be guided a supposition that cannot be ruled out, not a conclusion based on evidence. Indeed, the supposition cannot be ruled out, precisely because a supposition does not depend on evidence. He chooses his words carefully, confirming the process of evolution as a given: a process that may be guided by “an intelligent design,” not an intelligent designer. The design itself is intelligent, not requiring another intelligence, that of a mysterious, closet designer. The form and flow of a river is guided by its interaction with the riverbanks, requiring no outside agent. The river and its banks mutually design each other. The premise of the institute’s argument, that the necessity and certainty of an Intelligent Designer follows from design as perceived in nature, is not supported by Schiller’s comment. The obvious bias in interpretation muddies up the scholar’s clear and careful construction. It also overlooks the possibility that Schiller’s meaning is that nature is self-intelligent, self-designing. Nature’s creatures are clearly intelligent—able to learn—whether with, or without, the intercession of an outside force. Witness any ant colony. The real question is, again, one of intent, rather than intelligence, per se. Is the intent of nature, manifest in evolution, synonymous with God’s intent? The intent of the Discovery Institute’s agenda blinds it to such subtlety, projecting a preference, much as we saw with the pronouncements of the Pope. Schiller was not the only contemporary of Darwin to conflate evolution with intelligent design, as Dao reports: But paradoxically, one of the most prominent 19th-century scientists to refer to God as an all-knowing designer was a staunch defender of Darwin, a renowned Harvard botanist named Asa Gray. Sara Joan Miles, a science historian, wrote in 2001 that “Darwin could not reconcile the seeming randomness of certain particular events with an overall, foreordained plan.” Professor Gray, though, “knew from Scripture the attributes of God, and therefore could accept the errors, evil and suffering of Nature,” Professor Miles wrote.

Darwin, in his ambivalence toward apparent randomness, was on the same page with ID today. They point to the same contradiction: that chance, while necessarily part of God’s plan, is not to be elevated to the level of His intent. The spiritual struggle that Darwin suffered seems lost on today’s religionist revisionists, who delight in demonizing him. But randomness, even in the form of nature’s acts of cruelty and seeming chaos, apparently does not contradict the theology of all believers, as Dao reports:

Flash forward to 2005. Once used by Asa Gray to reconcile the theory of natural selection with Christian theology, the concept of intelligent design is now presented as an alternative, a challenge really, to Darwin’s ideas. What changed? Professor Miles… says science and religion have become increasingly fearful of and defensive about each other. She recommends they study the cordial debates between Asa Gray and Darwin for clues about how to coexist, or at least talk. Indeed, in a letter to Professor Gray in 1860, Darwin, an agnostic, seemed to accept the possibility of an all-wise designer without softening his scientific skepticism. “I can see no reason why a man, or other animal, may not have been aboriginally produced by other laws, and that all these laws may have been expressly designed by an omniscient Creator, who foresaw every future event and consequence,” he wrote. “But the more I think, the more bewildered I become; as indeed I probably have shown by this letter.”

What changed, for one thing, is precisely that science and religion have become increasingly fearful of and defensive about each other, as Professor Miles notes. But what happened, before that, to bring about this unhelpful situation? Did science arrogate to itself the province of religion? Or did religion usurp the precepts of science, such as the specious claim of evidence? Or a bit of both? They have become fearful of what? Defensive against what? Mixed with fame, fortune and politics, fear ferments a real witches’ brew, poisonous to all who imbibe. Here we have Darwin himself, the supposed bogeyman of God’s demise, speaking in a tongue that sounds much like a spokesman of ID, or at least admitting his reluctance to take an extreme position. He candidly admits the limits of thought, leading to a state of bewilderment. How refreshing! If only today’s proponents of ID could follow his example, rather than co- opting historical anecdotes, and twisting them to prop up their position. How doubly refreshing, if only those scientists who believe their own press could share some of Darwin’s agnosticism and humility. How hopeful, if only both sides could admit to some degree of Zen’s ambiguity.

WANTED: GOD, DEAD OR ALIVE One of the more disturbing sideshows of this circus was billed as the Death of God. It is an incident now over 40 years old, notable more for the furor it created then, than for any lasting consequence. In an example of the press covering the press, religion reporter Gayle White reports:

The cover story, Time’s second article on the death-of-God theology, named Thomas Altizer, a young faculty member in Emory University’s department of religion, as a primary author of the deity’s obituary. Altizer’s book, “The Gospel of Christian Atheism,” came out at the height of the controversy. Emory Magazine later described the scene when Altizer was a guest on “The Merv Griffin Show: …when Altizer’s cue came he strode on stage and confidently launched into his two-minute homily on the death of God.” The audience was unimpressed. In a scene reminiscent of the mob that demanded Jesus’ execution, the crowd chanted, “Kill him! Kill him!” When he was done, Altizer was rushed out a rear door. Looking back on his notoriety in “Living the Death of God,” a memoir… Altizer wrote, “I think I became one of the most hated men in America. Murder threats were almost… commonplace, savage assaults upon me were widely published, and the churches were seemingly possessed by a fury against me.”

Again, we are compelled to ask: what is underlying this over-the-top, hysterical hatred, toward what was, after all, just a theory? Mere speculation, regarding the non-existence of God? The columnist closes by reporting on Altizer’s current thinking:

Altizer is unhappy with the state of theological discourse today. Much of the theological world has become very conservative, he said, and radicals are excluded from the centers of power.

Welcome to the club, Tom. It should not go unmentioned that Christ was a radical in his time, as was Buddha. The former was excluded from power by crucifixion. The latter was luckier, living long and prospering. But a jealous cousin, Devadatta, tried to assassinate him. All was not rosy in Buddha’s life and times, either. So who are we to complain? Would that the political world likewise excluded radicals, rather than provide them safe haven and sinecure; radical in their devotion to self-dealing, masquerading as conservative, liberal, or independent; pretending to be public servants, for the sake of their own re-election. Another aside on the ubiquitous and intentional imprecision of language: So-called conservatives should be made to specify exactly what it is they mean to conserve, before being given positions of responsibility and power, whether in politics, religion, or science. All parties to the conflict, political or otherwise, are both conservative and liberal. The difference lies in what they are trying to conserve (e.g. status quo versus change) or what they want to liberalize (e.g. pro-business tax breaks versus social spending). One person’s conservatism is another’s liberalism. Use of the terms today has devolved to sheer invective, mindlessly hurling unexamined labels at one another. When did the term radical come to categorically exclude conservative? Isn’t it a bit radical to defend God through murderous savagery, as here directed, by Christian conservatives, at Altizer, and against countless others in history? RADICAL RELIGION Brian Shroeder, co-editor of a volume of essays on Altizer, quoted in the same article, points to a direction more in keeping with Buddhism’s focus on this life, rather than the afterlife:

“If all of Christendom had adopted Altizer’s thoughts, believers would focus entirely on this world rather than the next,” Shroeder said. “The churches would understand their mission as to being fully committed to issues of social justice, care and outreach to the poor and the oppressed.”

This comes perilously close to the radical teachings of Jesus, as well as those of Buddha. It should be noted that many branches of Christianity are turning back to this original set of compassionate imperatives. But how did what began as a humanistic religion, grounded in the profound humanity of Jesus, descend to such a nadir of fear and loathing? How did defending the faith end up prompting violations of its own precepts, as witnessed in the Dover trial? This cancer is not exclusive to Christianity, of course. It is not necessary to recount the litany of distortions of the teachings of other religious founders, nor to recall that they usually redound to the material benefit of those promoting the distortions. But Christianity insists on claiming the high moral ground in this debate, and so makes itself an easy target. We suspect that those attacking the teaching of evolution in schools generally know better. But, like their media comrades, they stand to benefit from fanning the flames. The politicos of religion have no incentive to find middle ground, and so find it expedient to ignore the original intent of Christianity. Those who willfully twist the teachings of their prophet and savior—as well as the intent of the Founding Founders, and the theory of the great gentleman naturalist—in pursuit of earthly, personal and political ends, raise as much in funds as they do in hackles. Buddhism teaches that existence is, in essence, a zero-sum game. There is nothing to gain, the bad news, but also nothing to lose. It also suggests taking a longer view, over many lifetimes. But this requires seriously reconsidering the idea of a one-lifetime-only soul, one that survives death intact, winning either a trip to heaven (Door A), or losing big-time in hell (Door B).

INTELLIGENCE AS QUOTIENT The question of existence, as we have seen, is framed as an extreme opposition, as to whether an intelligence, or mere chance, is driving creation. Either-or, A or B, as if there are only these two choices; no alternatives, no middle ground. What about both-and? Inclusive instead of exclusive. Randomness, or chance, seems to be a big bugaboo for Christians, on a philosophical level for the papacy, on a lower plane for the anti-monkey contingent. It is as if divinity cannot allow for chance encounters, random mutations, or kissing cousins. Again, if there is such a thing as a random occurrence, in a created world, didn’t the Creator allow for it? A more basic question, What is intelligence? Most attribute intelligence—broadly defined as the ability to learn—mainly to human beings, and to widely varying degree. Buckminster Fuller had something pertinent to say about intelligence. Fuller offered a definition of intelligence as, paraphrasing, “the ability to extract general principles from particular case experiences.” For example, to teach a child the concept of fast versus slow, the teacher mentions the words in a variety of contexts, such as moving a toy truck quickly while saying “fast,” and again slowly while saying “slow.” At another time, pointing to a turtle, and to a running horse. Given enough such examples, the child will extract the general principle, or concept, of fast versus slow. Whether or not our present antagonists can likewise extract mutually-agreed general principles, from the particulars under debate, remains to be seen. But it would be a sign of intelligent life. It has long been generally accepted that the relative intelligence of humans can be measured through intelligence quotient (IQ) tests, which are oriented toward the rational, analytical mind. Dr. Daniel Cappon, an “unabashed Jungian,” proposes a unique approach to measure the intuitive side of intelligence, in a magazine devoted to popularization of science, now defunct:

The IQ2, the Intuition Quotient Test, seeks to measure the capacity or innate ability of what I think will turn out to be the oldest and greatest part of human intelligence: our intuition. It may seem absurd to some that intuition, too long regarded as irrational, should be explored through scientific study and measurement. But ours is a world in which only seeing is believing, and only analysis and logic are reality. So I seek to demonstrate the truth of intuition. Both kinds of intelligence dwell in the same mind: intuition, the handmaiden of inductive reasoning, and analysis, serving the same purpose for deduction. Ideally they work in balance, yin and yang. If logical reasoning and scientific analysis have brought knowledge to the crown of human intelligence, then intuition—and its inseparable twin, creativity—form the jewel in the crown.

Our perceived mutual exclusivity of intuition and analysis, with the conventional emphasis on the latter, comes close to the crux of the “hard problem” of consciousness. We have difficulty imagining an analytical intuition, or intuitive analysis. It is akin to the perceived difference between intelligence and instinct; consider intelligent instinct versus instinctual intelligence.

DESIGN SANS DESIGNER In the article Show Me the Science, quoted previously (see Debate?), after outlining some design defects found in nature, Professor Daniel Dennett points out the difference between acknowledging the complexity of life, versus concluding that owing to its complexity, an intelligence must therefore have created it:

Francis Crick, one of the discoverers of DNA, once jokingly credited his colleague Leslie Orgel with “Orgel’s Second Rule”: Evolution is cleverer than you are. When evolutionists like Crick marvel at the cleverness of the process of natural selection they are not acknowledging intelligent design. The designs found in nature are nothing short of brilliant, but the process of design that generates them is utterly lacking in intelligence of its own.

The operative definition of intelligence, we might interject, determines the presence or lack thereof. We might also argue that the process of intelligent design is precisely what evolutionary biology has illustrated, in all its complexity. While no overseer can be found, the product produced can be said to be intelligently designed—by the process itself. One can thus come to trust the process of design itself as inherently intelligent. It is the insistence upon overlaying a supernatural being on top of universal design, one who is clandestinely doing the designing; or worse, finished the design some time ago, and is now in monitoring mode; that creates a problem in the scientific realm. This conclusion is an article of faith, or belief, rather than an object of experiment. If not, let’s see the bench test. In Zen, the saying a head on top of a head captures this kind of redundancy. That which is evolving the creation is creation itself, which, in theology, is labeled God. But theists, especially Christians, insist upon the absolute separation of this world from the realm of God. This is the fundamental fall from grace, according to Buddhism. Master Dogen expresses this point, saying:

The Way is completely present where you are, so of what use is practice or enlightenment? However, if there is the slightest difference in the beginning between you and the Way, the result will be a greater separation than between heaven and earth.

According to Buddhism, there has never been the separation of heaven and earth, so fundamental to the belief systems of theology, particularly those of Christianity and Islam. The separation of self from other, of mundane and sacred, or heaven and earth—Samsara and Nirvana—is regarded as a fundamental sickness of the human mind. To insist that the process of nature is utterly lacking in intelligence is to reiterate that intelligence is exclusively what human beings say it is—their own intelligence. This is self-affirming and circular, and an article of faith, dependent upon self-serving definition. We might reasonably take exception to Dennett’s assertion, in the context of this theory of universal intelligence, but he is actually inveighing against external intelligence, i.e. God. It may be true that other beings are not intelligent, from a strictly human perspective, but this suffers from being a human conceit, dependent upon a human-centric interpretation of intelligence. Scientific and religious proponents have this myopic streak in common, owing to the common heritage of human intent. Intent is the real subtext, as noted in Dennett’s next comments:

Intelligent design advocates, however, exploit the ambiguity between process and product that is built into the word “design.” For them, the presence of a finished product (a fully evolved eye, for instance) is evidence of an intelligent design process. But this tempting conclusion is just what evolutionary biology has shown to be mistaken.

So ambiguity is inextricable from design. Dennett points to confusing the noun with the verb: as a noun, it denotes a product, a static reality; as a verb, it recognizes process, impermanence. But finding evidence of intelligent design in nature is not a mistaken conclusion, if intelligence is not defined as a quality separate from the natural process itself. Dennett goes on to skewer the over-simplified, almost childish perspective that the ID folks project upon the physical world:

Yes, eyes are for seeing, but these and all the other purposes in the natural world can be generated by processes that are themselves without purposes and without intelligence. This is hard to understand, but so is the idea that colored objects in the world are composed of atoms that are not themselves colored, and that heat is not made of tiny hot things.

Setting aside the inapt metaphor linking sentient and insentient examples, we have a deeper philosophical quibble. The assertion that processes that generate purposes are, themselves, without purpose and without intelligence, can be challenged, and should be qualified. Purpose does not have to be human, or even dependent upon conscious intent. The processes of nature are clearly driven by life, which can be considered self-purposeful. Living existence must, perforce, be a consequence of the desire, however inchoate, for life. This original intent—desire, craving or thirst—is the Buddhist idea of the impelling force behind existence. But it is not necessary to give it a name, such as God, or First Cause. For either a scientist or a religious person to deny the reality of this impulse would be neurotically circular. Existence is surely proof positive of existential intent, the desire to exist. The last two clever illustrations, color not being the result of atoms of color, same for heat, unintentionally satirize the sort of simplistic reductionism that is at the heart of materialism, and in a different way, behind ID. To reduce consciousness to a side-effect of quantum physics, or to reduce the existence of designs in nature that are nothing short of brilliant to the conclusion that there must then be a brilliant designer, somewhat like the observer, is absurdly simplistic, like big colored, or hot, things being made up of small, similarly colored, or hot, atoms. A well-known Zen aphorism is similar in its quality of reductio ad absurdum: Water is not wet. Water is not wet to itself, nor is the property of wetness one that has a single locus. It is an interaction between the senses, tactility and temperature, the discriminating mind, and the liquid, a perception- conception that is not found separately from its context. A related Zen question was posed by Sokei-an, founder of the New York Zen Institute: Where is the red in the red fire hydrant? The dog, the chicken and the person, all see the hydrant, but only the human sees the red. Where is it, finally? A famous question posed by Tozan, the founder of Soto Zen in China (807-69), to a monk who complained that we suffer from the heat, then suffer from the cold, asked “Why not go to a place neither hot nor cold?” Where, exactly, is the wet? The color red? The heat, the cold? Where is God? Dennett closes by skewering a creationist pamphlet, a questionnaire that aspires to persuade unbelievers with irrefutable logic:

Do you know of any building that didn’t have a builder? [YES] [NO] Do you know of any painting that didn’t have a painter? [YES] [NO] Do you know of any car that didn’t have a maker? [YES] [NO] If you answered YES for any of the above, give details:

The presumed embarrassment of the test-taker when faced with this task perfectly expresses the incredulity many people feel when they confront Darwin’s great idea. It seems obvious, doesn’t it, that there couldn’t be any designs without designers, any such creations without a creator. Well, yes—until you look at what contemporary biology has demonstrated beyond all reasonable doubt: that natural selection… has the power to generate breathtakingly ingenious designs.

Ingenious means “possessing cleverness and imagination,” two traits generally reserved to humanity, not withstanding recent research with the great apes. It also means “original and effective,” clearly appropriate to anything that survives the trials of natural selection. Survival is, by definition, ingenious, in the eat-or-be-eaten world of nature. Taking one example, Dennett illustrates that the ingenuity of nature is anything but the product of original, untested design intent, sans process:

Take the development of the eye, which has been one of the favorite challenges of creationists. How on earth, they ask, could that engineering marvel be produced by a series of small, unplanned steps? We can’t yet say what all the details of this process were, but real eyes representative of all the intermediate stages can be found, dotted around the animal kingdom…

These “intermediate stages” are analogous to software releases 1.0, 2.0, 3.0, et cetera. They are incrementally revised, redesigned and re-released, as the interface with the real world of users provides feedback for de-bugging the initial and subsequent versions. Feedback in biological systems is manifested in the survival of versions with better-adapted applications (e.g. tricolor eyes). But even the highest-evolved models available, whether in works of human beings or those of nature, sometimes betray fundamental design flaws. Dennett makes his point. What seems obvious to the uneducated may indeed be all-too-obvious, as in flat-out wrong. He goes on to reinforce our earlier suggestion that, if God is the designer, He just may not be very good at it. Or, perhaps not all that committed to this particular creation, having moved on to other things (as Olaf Stapledon speculated in early sci-fi):

Brilliant as the design of the eye is, it betrays its origin with a tell-tale flaw: the retina is inside-out. No intelligent designer would put such a clumsy arrangement in a camcorder, and this is just one of hundreds of accidents frozen on evolutionary history that confirm the mindlessness of the historical process.

Here, mindlessness is meant not in the pejorative sense, but as the absence of a human-like mind overseeing the process. Accident would here be understood as the inevitable result of immutable physical law, as mentioned earlier. A pertinent attribute of Buddhism’s dukkha, or unsatisfactoriness, is imperfection. Perfection is a concept of humanity, and is found only in the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body and mind of the beholder, as is any imperfection, or perfection, for that matter, perceived in the universe.

UNINTELLIGENT DESIGN Further evidence that the Intelligent Designer may need to go back to His drawing board is marshaled by David P. Barash, Professor of psychology at the University of Washington:

The…“Bridgewater Treatises,” published between 1833 and 1840, were classic statements of “natural theology,” seeking to demonstrate God’s existence by examining the natural world’s “perfection.” Current believers in creationism…argue similarly, claiming that only a designer could generate such complex, perfect wonders. But, in fact, the living world is shot through with imperfection… this imperfection—the manifold design flaws of life—points incontrovertibly to a natural, rather than a divine, process, one in which living things were not created de novo, but evolved. Consider the human body. Ask yourself, if you were designing the optimum exit for a fetus, would you engineer a route that passes through the narrow confines of the pelvic bones? Add to this the tragic reality that childbirth is not only painful in our species but downright dangerous and sometimes lethal, owing to a baby’s head being too large for the mother’s birth canal. An engineer who designed such a system from scratch would be summarily fired, but evolution didn’t have the luxury of intelligent design.

Linkages have been proposed, between certain of these design flaws and important steps in evolution, such as humankind’s transition from quadruped to bipedal stance. Biological evolution may be true, but apparently it is not quick enough to keep up with cultural evolution. The womenfolk aren’t the only ones to receive short shrift:

On to men. It is simply deplorable that the prostate gland is so close to the urinary system that (the common) enlargement of the former impinges awkwardly on the bladder…the vas deferens (which carries sperm) became looped around the ureter (which carries urine from kidneys to bladder), resulting in an altogether illogical arrangement that would never have occurred if, like a minimally competent designer, natural selection could have anticipated the situation. There’s much more that the supposed designer botched: ill-constructed knee joints that wear out, a lower back that’s prone to pain, an inverted exit of the optic nerve via the retina, resulting in a blind spot. What about the theological implications? If God is the designer, and we are created in his image, does that mean he has back problems, too?

It can be argued, if unscientifically, that any and all these design flaws may have a greater purpose in God’s plan, one that we mere mortals are incapable of discerning. This would likely be the default position of a theist in defending the theory of God’s omniscient and omnipotent design. If evolution is true, and going on twos instead of fours, the source of some of our problems, then perhaps we should all return to running around on our knuckles, as that is obviously God’s plan. That last remark, about God’s back problems, may seem sacrilegious to a religious person. In which case, the following aside will rankle even more.

PERVERSE DESIGN Reading the intent of God’s will into the design of the world raises other areas of uncertainty, at least as observed by a skeptic. There is a well-known set of issues that Christians, Muslims and other religious folk have with the morality of sexuality, particularly that of human beings. We suspect that some may have a similar issue with its manifestation in the animal kingdom, as well. There was a hilarious movement some years ago, in which some apparently well-intentioned looney-tunes promoted the merry idea that household pets and—why not? even all the beasts of the wilderness—should cover their private parts, just as Adam and Eve did, following the Fall. This resulted in the periodic appearance of diapers of various designs, adapted to fit the various physiologies, at home or zoo. The crusade ended quietly, owing perhaps to the challenges of catching, and clothing, those indecent seagoing mammals. Obsession with sexuality, as somehow inherently depraved, naturally raises certain questions, then, about the Designer thereof. First and foremost, if sexual activity is a bad or degrading thing, why is it that most all living beings come into Creation through some form of sex? Are there any that don’t? Other than, who else, Jesus? If abstinence is the precept to be followed, except under very strict sets of guidelines, why is sex designed to feel so good, making it irresistible, under most normal circumstances? Further, and begging forgiveness in advance, if God really wants human (and all primate) children not to masturbate, and to abstain from sex until they are of a socially acceptable age, why are the hands so conveniently close to the genitals, in the erect-standing biped (another reason behind the back-to-all-fours movement)? Why do hormones and menstruation kick in during the preteen years, before the brain is fully formed, specifically that part that purportedly anticipates consequences of actions? Why are adolescents engineered to be sexually precocious, physically as well as socially? It appears to be at least as much a matter of nature as of nurture. Wouldn’t some sort of genetically- induced, natural abstinence, say until we are in our late twenties or thirties, be a sure sign of design intent, conforming to our mores, on the part of God? Some would argue that influences of the secular world, such as media-inspired worship of youth, and sexualization of the young, to name a few, are the primary influences. But ascribing the cause to nurture, rather than nature, does not address the hard-wired traits of youthful sexuality. Its taboo aspects are clearly cultural. That is, the taboos du jour are not universally characteristic of societies today, nor of societies past. Western religious mores do not even hold up in other contemporary cultures; also moral, by the way, in the view of their own members. To what extent does Christian morality truly represent that of the West, or even of Christians? There are many reasons why Zen and Buddhist monastic communities have practiced celibacy as the norm, for members of the order of monks and nuns. Last amongst them would be the kind of morality associated with abstention, by certain parties today. First would most likely be simplicity, given the difficulty of the task of spiritual awakening, when complicated by entanglement with sexuality.

THIS LAND IS MY LAND There are other sets of problems that we might want to bring up in a critique with the Designer, whose bright ideas they supposedly are. One that Native Americans could not understand, about European settlers, is the idea that the very Mother Earth can be owned—bought and sold. This led to the famous debacle of Manhattan Island being traded for a handful of beads, which is still interpreted in some circles, we can be sure, as some sort of proof of the white man’s superior intelligence, or as an example of the Christian God’s plan to convert the heathens. On the international level, giving the land of Israel to the Jews, as they claim, while others claim that the same God gave it to them (okay, a different God, but the one and only true God). What was He thinking? Why create Palestine, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank, and Israel in the first place? Is God a cartographer? Is He pro-war? There are plenty of examples from the Bible and other scripture that would so indicate, if the Old Testament truly represents the inerrant, if angry and jealous, word of a bellicose God. From the secular perspective, and that of Buddhism, of course, He didn’t. A just God would not give land to any one tribe, nor name any one ethnicity as His Chosen People. Nations are entirely man- made, legal entities, representing only human, self-centered imagination. Witness the endless conquering and partitioning, from Genghis Khan to the British Empire, on which the sun never sat. Until it did. There is clearly a suspiciously, secular-cultural-political bias, to these human protestations of God’s will. To the outsider, goyim or infidel, it appears to be simply the blame game writ large. You, or your ancestors, started this fight; we’re going to finish it. God’s intent as a manifestation of Buddhism’s three poisons: greed, hate and delusion. And extensions of the self: I, me, mine. Then by perverse logic extended to the tribal: We, us, ours. With the ultimate Judge ensconced reassuringly in our corner. This is not to trivialize the all-too-real human suffering inflicted by humanity’s inhumanity to humanity, nor to focus unduly on one such tribal dispute, however much it hogs the news cycle. But it seems inspired by what both, or all, sides to the conflict, believe constitutes their religion. What kind of religion can be based on waging war over territory, even countenancing genocide, without abrogating the very meaning of religion? The rationalization of such atrocities in the name of religion is surely the ultimate perversion, of both rationality and religion, in one stroke. The principle of spiritual poverty, in Zen, does not recommend renunciation of material possessions because they are corrupting. It is, instead, the recognition that nothing, actually, belongs to us in any way that is not impermanent, insubstantial, and imperfect, the three hallmarks of dukkha, universal change. This applies to real estate as well as unreal estate. We own, only by virtue of utility, as Marx pointed out. Our heirs do not own, any more than we do.

IRREDUCIBLE SIMPLICITY ID’s assertion, that the irreducible complexity of certain forms of life, constitutes proof positive of the existence of a Designer (one comfortingly similar to the self-image of those making the assertion) was well-disposed-of in the Dover trial. The examples, cited as impossibly complex, were shown to be progressive accumulations of simple adaptations, incrementally more complex over time. But what about other examples of complexity in nature? How about the irreducible complexity in non-living, insentient parts of the universe? As exhibited by the Milky Way, for example. Galaxies are fairly complex, if not irreducibly. How complex is one atom? The planet Earth? The sun? Is biological life the only dimension of existence, that demonstrates sufficiently irrefutable evidence of godly authorship? Especially, and most central to the creationist thesis, that of humanity itself? If a God indeed created the entire universe, how likely is the form of that Creator to reflect the image of only one species among untold billions of creatures, just on this Earth? This self-centered selectivity is illustrative of a desperate hope against hopelessness; a yearning to be the chosen one of God. At the same time, it reinforces a telling blindness toward other sentient beings. Ancient sun- worshipers—likely objects of ridicule in most current religious, as well as scientific, circles—at least had a healthy humility as to their place in the greater scheme of things. Zen Buddhism places humanity at the center of things, not looking down on the cosmos from on high, but fully enmeshed, and engaged, in the daily turmoil of existence. More than the other animals here with us, we have the potential to awaken to the true condition of existence. But this ability is more of a responsibility than a mark of special status. It is not that simple.

SURVIVAL OF THE FIT A widespread, subtle, and self-serving misuse of the theory of evolution co-opts the phrase, survival of the fittest, as a dictum that justifies denigration of the less-fit. In the arena of religion, survival of the fittest lends support to the doctrine that God grants humankind dominion over the earth. This is, as well, an unspoken assumption underlying the desirability and application, of many scientific discoveries. From this idea it is a short step to insinuating complete human dominance over the world and its nonhuman denizens. Once established as a given, the assumption that humans are most fit is used to justify destruction of habitat, from elephants in Africa to dolphins in China, for claimed but dubious benefit to mankind. Ultimately, humankind’s inter-species pogrom must at best end in worldwide zoos, where the only place for nonhumans is in confinement. It may take an ugly turn, however. People are already finding themselves constricted, crammed into increasingly narrow tracts of habitable terrain, portending global, human zoos of the poor, with the wealthy as zoo-keepers. The idea of dominion, taken to the extreme, rationalizes innumerable horrors, such as factory farming of livestock. Too many now demand meat in their daily diet, even three meals a day. Raising livestock in the most efficient, and consequently the most compact, dense, and unhealthy conditions imaginable, is the predictable consequence of blindly supplying ever-increasing demand, for ever- greater profit. Increased stress, spread of disease, and contamination, following from such misconceived efficiency—a 21st-Century plague—is also a predictable side-effect. Humanity’s dominion, according to tree-huggers (note the precise, neutral language), would be better interpreted as responsibility for stewardship, a connotation of conservatism now outmoded; as in conserving, rather than blindly consuming. Extended to the arena of human rights and international relations, dominion becomes a premise of political power. Accepting the notion, that our species has God’s exclusive imprimatur on Earth, naturally extends to our national, ethnic or racial group, God’s chosen ones, enjoying dominion over any and all others. This land is my land segues smoothly into this world is my world. It is a short hop, skip and jump to international corporations assuming dominion. Thereby, the broad and grand sweep of evolution is narrowed to the task of defining our own group as more highly evolved; and therefore, rightful heir to sovereignty over the entire human race, and the spoils of the planet. This amounts to an ironic twist on that historical anomaly, the divine right of kings. The dark side of humanity’s presumed godliness underlies racial and other forms of prejudice, and excuses the dehumanization of enemies in conquest, or simply in the neighborhood (see: Nazism). It then becomes incumbent, upon those of us who have dominion over others, to defend our place in the food chain, even against our brothers (see: Cain and Abel). It must be, after all, God’s will, that some of us are more evolved than our subjects. This view normalizes the containment, in refugee or concentration camps, behind walls and in prisons, of those who do not fit comfortably into our version of society. Worldwide units of the prophesied military-[police-prison]-industrial complex, now walling in a significant percentage of US citizens; fencing whole nations on their common borders; and turning tribal populations into permanent refugees; are making a tidy profit, and employing good citizens in doing so. In Zen, these issues falls under the area of right conduct: speech, action and livelihood; dimensions of the Noble Eightfold Path. Adherents of Buddhism may or may not demonstrate against, or publicly protest, the ubiquitous abuses of humankind against its fellows. But they certainly do not look to human-designed systems of laws and governments for justice. In Buddhism, the working out of karma, over many lifetimes, is the only true justice, the only dependable balancing act, in reality. Don’t hold your breath until human justice emerges.

WHAT’S IN A WORD The fit in survival of the fittest does not designate the winner in a contest, e.g. the Superior Race, but simply the specific adaptability of successive generations of given organisms to given sets of circumstances. Evolution is the reaction over time to changing circumstances, not the short-term success of one competitor, one ethnic group, or one generation, in a fight to the finish. One adaptation fits better in one situation, another in another. This may occur incrementally over long periods of time, or in leaps triggered by catastrophe, such as the impact of a comet on the atmosphere, or that of a cosmic ray on a DNA molecule. It is a form of cooperation, actually, between beings and environments, not simply a direct competition between beings. This points to the complex and changing meaning of natural design over time, rather than a fixed, original intent, that guides design implementation strictly according to plan, determinism disguised as God’s will. The working out of design evolution, in nature as well as human endeavors, is more like the play of jazz musicians improvising on a chord progression, than a classic soloist or ensemble, faithfully reproducing a predetermined composition from written notation. Of course, any classical musician will testify that the music is not in the notation, but in its interpretation in the living moment. Still, it’s not jazz. Even stone is not carved in stone; concrete is not cast in concrete. Everything changes, mostly unpredictably. Neither science nor religion can claim the prescience to predict the future in its entirety, notwithstanding prophecies to the contrary. The underlying design of creation itself may also evolve, but that does not necessitate an omniscient, cosmic mind-brain to direct its evolution. An orchestra can play without a conductor, and any instrument can be played without sheet music. Zen finds no contradiction between its worldview and the findings of science. The reality of evolution seems almost self-evident, from the perspective of personal insight, personal evolution, witnessed in Zen meditation. In any case, the method of Zen is one of observation, not of debate. If debate is to be intelligently engaged, the debaters need to know something of both sides of the issue. The religious must thoroughly study science, and vice-versa.

BEGINNINGLESS AND ENDLESS Whether or not one believes the Dover trial to be simply another smokescreen for yet another sally against the forces of secularism by the forces of creationism, it should be noted that the argument that evolution is the engine of creation cannot be logically established, any more than the argument that God is. It makes no more sense to declare that evolution created the universe than it does to insist that God did. The Big Bang is science’s placeholder for how things got to be the way they are, in terms of cosmology. With good reason, based on credible evidence in the form of intergalactic expansion. For the rest of us, however, that there was no before—before the bang—eludes credulity. It is beyond belief, which is, of course. precisely the scientific point. Evolution is an eloquent theory, backed by an immense body of confirming data. It describes an evident process—whereby the forms of living beings undergo change, over time and successive generations, adapting to many forces in the environment, through passing on adaptive traits and learned behavior— natural selection, as origin of species; not the origin of everything. Nurture and nature coexist in balance, a dizzying dance of simplicity and complexity, intertwined in the ever-changing now. Creationism is, instead, a theory of beginning and ending. It relegates process to God’s will. Christian and other creationists, in particular, and theists in general, have scarce evidence, in the scientific sense, to prove their beliefs. They rely on faith, a faith that insists that its adherents blindly believe, in lieu of hard evidence. The closest thing to tangible evidence is claimed by charismatic Christians, finding it first-person in ecstatic experiences of God’s presence. Christians and other theists insist that a deity created the universe, a miracle. Science says that it all began with the biggest bang imaginable; a silent bang, given that there were no ears to hear it; an event that does not need a creator god to set it off. All that is needed, is for all of the matter in the universe to be compressed into an impossibly small space: a primordial, singular atom. Nothing unreasonable, let alone miraculous, here. These opposing positions on how it all began may seem irreconcilable, as well as equally hypothetical, both barely conceivable. Why they should be irreconcilable is not obvious. If Genesis is literally accurate, it begins to read a lot like the Big Bang, if in the alternate form of “in the beginning there was the Word.” Also silent, in lieu of ears. Bang or Word; you decide. The Big Bang is at least supported by some compelling evidence, the accelerating expansion of the Universe. But it approximates a belief, even if more theory than myth. Whose foot is on the accelerator? This chitty-chitty bang-bang is the engine of creation, the perpetual motion machine of evolution. Stars explode, recombinant as humans, given sufficient time. Similarly, faith-based versus scientific views of how it will all end are light years, and eons, apart. One contingent anticipates Armageddon just around the corner, seemingly the sooner the better. The other predicts a slow heat death, unimaginably distant in eternity. Neither vision proffers much comfort, to mere mortals trying to get through the day. Both are ways of imagining the beginning and the end of creation, the arising and disappearing of Universe. Bereft of any such explanation, however theoretical, humanity is left with a great gaping maw of uncertainty, mystery and chaos. One simply doesn’t know. This position is not satisfactory, to either the religious or the scientific mindset. But in Zen Buddhism, it is. Ambiguity is considered intrinsic to the truth. So, such speculations are mostly beside the point. They are regarded as distractions, based on a need for finding and feeling certainty, where there can be none. Buddhism holds that the first cause is not known. This is not simply a shrug of the shoulders. How it all began, and will end, is deemed irrelevant to the central issues of life as it is lived. Zen Buddhism’s focus is on the here and now. Instead of debating the creation, and ultimate fate of the world, the point is to awaken to the concrete, present reality, not to distract or entertain the mind with concepts about it. It, reality, is being created, and recreated, before our eyes, instantaneously. This may seem absurd, but it is infinitely more germane than endless speculation about beginnings and endings.

MIND-BODY DUALITY-UNITY Jumping into the schism between religious and scientific thinkers, we bump right up against the so-called mind-body duality. Though contentious, this is a point of some agreement between science and religion. On the extreme pole of science, the mind arises by chance out of the body, as a separate entity. In religion, the mind is of the spirit, while the body is of this world. In Zen Buddhism, mind and body are co-arisen. Closely examined, they are seen as inseparable, causes and conditions of each other. Consciousness, or mind, cannot exist without the ground of physical being, the only reality of which it is conscious. Science has a difficult time dealing with mind itself, or consciousness, as the subject of scientific inquiry. This difficulty may perhaps be attributable to the limitations of today’s technology. If machines can’t measure it, it’s not meaningful, scientifically. Study of consciousness is largely relegated to so-called soft sciences, e.g. psychology and related fields. Christianity also has a difficult time dealing with mind outside the polarities of good and evil, right and wrong. The psychology of religion is bound up with its scripture, precepts, and commandments. The body is often characterized as the source of evil, where the mind is capable of revelation, changing through the efficacy of prayer. In Zen, mind and body are both sacred, as well as profane. The desires that plague the human being, as well as other sentient beings, come with the territory, the physical body. This does not mean they are of the devil. Being a physical being, cravings from hunger and thirst to freedom and status follow irrevocably. In this, human beings are in the same boat, on the ocean of samsara, with all other sentient beings, including even grass and trees, the “vegetable kingdom.”

MIND OF GRASS AND TREES The growth of a tree involves many stops and starts, reflecting revisions of its behavior. A root runs into an impenetrable rock, changes direction. Other roots move out in other directions. The branches of the tree grow in the direction of the sun, filling in around surrounding trees. While this cannot be construed as conscious intelligence, it suggests an inchoate and inchmeal adaptive behavior, similar to the kind of behavior exhibited on the level of antibodies in the human bloodstream. Mechanical and chemical reactions in living beings cannot be divorced from a kind of primordial intent, that is the underlying life force behind the behavior. Instinct cannot be divorced from intelligence. Not that this imputes self-awareness to the insentient, but at least a low-level awareness of, manifested as an interactivity with, that which is other. This kind of adaptation to context can be interpreted, loosely, as a kind of learning, the basic hallmark of intelligence. If we apply this operational definition of intelligence to the universe at large, we can see that even the lower forms of life are capable of learning, if in a crude way. Evolution can be regarded as the development of an intelligence that spans generations, adapting through trial and error, much as human culture is handed down. Other species appear to teach their young, just as humankind transmit cultural intelligence from generation to generation, which helps to explain humanity’s current dominant position on the food chain. In Zen, this lowest-common-denominator intelligence is called the mind of grass and trees (J. so-moku-shin). It is the primitive, instinctual awareness, by virtue of which trees and grass track the sun, and with which the immune system detects and attacks invasive bacteria and viruses with antibodies. This level of consciousness, qua intelligence (couldn’t resist), is the kind of mind shared with all sentient beings, including plants. It is the ground of buddha-mind.

INTELLIGENT INTENT In the area of purpose, or intent, both religious and scientific sides may find common ground. Most would agree that intent is attributable only to sentient beings, or more narrowly, strictly restricted to humans (and their gods). Self-serving conventional wisdom holds that all of nature exists to serve the purpose of the human species. The behavior of animals, let alone plants, is not conventionally regarded as intentional in any elevated sense, but based upon blind instinct, subservient to the god of survival value. A Buddhist might challenge this idea. If there is purpose to the existence of human beings, there must be purpose to all of existence, down to the lowliest virus, even an inert stone. But to cavalierly reduce the original and total intent, of the existence of the vast, inconceivable universe, to the service of human beings and their gods, is surely the height of monomania. The insistence on conscious intent as necessary to intelligence, may simply reflect a prevailing lack of clarity regarding their complementary nature. Intelligence and intent are co-arising and mutually conditioning, by this model. Beings may be said to manifest intent, however primitive, without much intelligence, from a virus to an earthworm, and beyond. The desire to exist surely qualifies as intent. But can there be intelligence without intent? All sentient beings seem to demonstrate the ability to learn, one trait of intelligence. Current research seems to demonstrate that the level of intent, or purpose, of so-called brute animals is much greater than generally, or historically, appreciated. Perhaps the source of the confusion resides in the definition of consciousness, itself. A being may have purpose, or intent, without being aware of it, as such. Acting on that intent, conscious or no, is a form of intelligence. This can be construed, in the case of “go forth and multiply,” as intent, or intelligence, of the larger being of which they are a part, the species, and for which they are an agent. This unconscious dimension of intelligence, or wisdom, larger than its individuated and conscious expression, is an accepted principle in Buddhism. Any human being is considered to have the innate potential to wake up, as Buddha did. But not many do, statistically. In spite of the fact that sentient beings may all have Buddha-nature, they do not necessarily know it.

ANIMAL INTELLIGENCE We hesitate to attribute intelligence to so-called lower animals that, according to prevalent conventional wisdom, operate solely on instinct. It has become a core issue of the debate about evolution, particularly regarding apes, the closest genetic cousins to humankind. And it is a flashpoint of the movement for the humane treatment of animals, in a context of ever-greater worldwide hegemony of the human species, now six billion and swarming. Most pet owners have no problem attributing a degree of intelligence to their cat or dog, or a bird, snake or other exotic animal. This is often dismissed as sentimental anthropomorphism, based on affection for, and projection upon, Tom or Fido. But there is an ongoing debate as to whether animals display evidence of intelligence and intention, rather than mere instinct. More evidence is turning up that many are capable of intent, and possess a distinct intelligence. Someone experienced in animal research remarked that laboratory clinicians doing research on animals are the only ones who don’t know that animals have intention and intelligence; everyone else does. Perhaps it is a self-protective, unconscious strategy on the part of clinicians, to mitigate the otherwise inexcusable and unnecessary suffering, often inflicted upon the helpless in the pursuit of their profession. When it comes to the lowest of the lower animals, such as insects, appreciation of their intelligence, and concern for their suffering, drops off precipitously. This attitude permeates the culture and manifests in some peculiar behaviors and ideas about intelligence and the food chain. Some vegetarians, for example, draw the line on what they will not eat, at anything with a face. Some will eat eggs and dairy. Vegans draw the line at the kingdom boundary. Plants only. At the dividing line between animal cum plant, versus mineral, between the living and the non- living, where viruses dwell, it seems a reach to attribute any meaningful level of intelligence to their behavior. But then, even we human beings sometimes behave in ways that bring discredit to our vaunted intellect. From the Buddhist perspective, difference in intelligence is not as important as the similar traits that we share with sentient beings, mainly that of sentience itself. This attitude is reaffirmed by the genome project, which is showing that we have a great deal, in the upper 90s percentile, of DNA in common, say with an earthworm. All sentient beings are embraced in the Buddhist idea of community. Some are very distant cousins, that’s all. It is worth noting that Zen Buddhism performs funerals for sentient beings, in which a cat, dog or other pet is given a new, posthumous name, as is the custom for humans as well. The homily is directed to the deceased, and exhorts it to release its attachment to this past life, so that it is possible to be reborn as a human being. Weird, but humane.

INHUMAN INTELLIGENCE Creationists provide answers about the self from scripture, defined as a soul, and its relationship to the Creator. Scientists regard the self as observer, where what is being observed is, by definition, something other than self. In different ways, each gives the self, or person, a special place. One is seen as reflecting the image of its creator. The other is engaged in divining the mysteries of the creation. The creationist sees intelligence in the design of the self, and its imputed rightful place in the rest of creation. The scientist sees the self’s intelligence as verification of the evolutionary process, as well as other pet theories. Religion places the highest good in the intelligence of the creator deity (outside of creation), from which human intelligence derives. The scientist finds the highest good in human potential, in the intelligence that can observe and understand the working laws of the universe, laws considered largely independent of the observer. So both science and religion allow for intelligence within creation, and both likewise place intelligence outside creation. Both sides seem to lack total trust in the human race, or human nature. Religion distrusts the self, in spite of its status as created in God’s image. Science distrusts the self, regardless of its vaunted intelligence. This is understandable as both, religious zealotry and scientific application of human intelligence, have been party to creating great harm. Religion lacks trust in humanity based on principles of morality—all are evil-doers, sinners, if given the chance. Science lacks trust in humanity’s sanity—they will destroy the world, in order to save their souls. A Mexican standoff, no slur intended. Zen places great, one might say absolute, trust in the self—that is, the true self. The distinction between self and true self is not merely an exercise in semantics. The ordinary, everyday self that Buddhism regards as a self-centered concept, is indeed capable of great mischief in the service of that so-called self. The true self, which we discover through a process that begins with questioning the validity of the conceptual self, is distinguished by its lack of self-centered obsession. This finds its apex in the person of the bodhisattva. The bodhisattva, literally enlightening being, the ideal of Mahayanna Buddhism, places the welfare and benefit of all others first, and vows to help them to the other shore, before releasing hold on this existence. The true self is the only person that can perform such service. It is the one that is not others. The bodhisattva represents the evolution of true intelligence in a human being. This kind of intelligence may be described as inhuman, in that it has transcended the limitation of its own humanity. It is at the heart of all altruistic actions, true compassion.

UNIVERSAL INTELLIGENCE The term intelligent is defined as “having or using intelligence… having knowledge, understanding, or awareness (of something). Intelligence is “the ability to learn or understand from experience… the ability to respond quickly and successfully to a new situation… use of the faculty of reason in solving problems, directing conduct…” and, finally, “intelligence personified; an intelligent spirit or being.” That last smacks of ID, intelligence inhering in a spirit or a being. Buddhism regards the Universe as Being, intelligence a universal attribute of that being. Of course, the faculty of intelligence is not distributed equally, but gradated; and granted—for the sake of not starting and argument—from human beings on one end, through a spectrum including all sentient beings, down to single-cell organisms, viruses, and plants on the other end. Dolphins, even elephants, given technological evolution, may yet challenge the place we give them in our thinking order. Most scientists may consider it rank fantasy to attribute intelligence universally. But if regarded as a separate entity or quality, intelligence is necessarily rendered spirit, in the sense of something separate and apart from the physical world. Back to square one on the Cartesian chessboard. Integrated with the concrete world, however, intelligence becomes an identifiable, qualitative trait at all levels of existence, sentient and insentient. It may even be possible to quantify, hypothesizing a universal IQ, measuring the intelligence of plants against that of animals, for example. A sliding scale, so to say, based on testing. Giving new meaning to the expression, dumb as a post. And to teaching to the test. Most Christians may feel it demeaning to propose that intelligence is not unique to humanity. But even barely sentient members of the animal and plant kingdoms manifest a kind of intelligence. Even chemical processes in the insentient world may be considered a kind of learning process, in that some are reversible, some are not, like the binary yes and no, one and zero, of digital logic. A galaxy that collides with another learns never to do that again. According to the Buddhist view, intelligence is a trait highly evolved in the human species but shared, in some wise, with the lowest forms of life. Even the insentient world is regarded as a manifestation of mind, in the universal sense. Thus and therefore, it is not random. Evolution is the way creation is created, self-created—and recreated. Creation is evolving. Evolution is the free and playful recreation of the Universe’s intelligence, which some may call God if it pleases them. Positing intelligence outside of creation becomes simply a superfluous conjecture, literally extraneous, if the body of creation, the Universe itself, is itself intelligent. If it is not, we have lost nothing by entertaining the notion.

This section has attempted to conjure a recognition of some of the contradictions lurking in underlying assumptions about intelligence and evolution, and the role that concepts from science and religion may play in contributing to the confusion. We began with a necessarily extensive recap of the most recent publicized brouhaha over the issue, the trial in Dover, PA. This was intended to document certain absurdities revealed in the argument and conduct of the proponents, admittedly mainly from the religious side, as that’s where all the gaffes and glitches were found. This dissertation is also meant to set the tone, and provide the cultural background, for the philosophical ruminations that follow. The next chapter will take a closer look at some of the larger implications of the debate, and take a peek in the tent of hidden agendas, particularly with regard to the political and religious establishment. In that context, it will unabashedly engage in wild speculation about the potential for a Buddhist Utopia. Where the world ceases to be the scene of our personal hopes and wishes, where we face it as free beings admiring, asking and observing, there we enter the realm of Art and Science. — Einstein

D. FUTURE PERFECT

This chapter will revisit some of the central teachings of Buddhism, and speculate as to their potential effects upon contemporary society, should they be fully embraced. Implications for a utopian society, and for the individual, will be conjectured, of imagined, as a What if? exercise. It is important to re-emphasize that Buddhist teachings are not beliefs. They are often classified as doctrines, but Buddhism should not be understood as doctrinaire. Buddhists are not determined to follow a particular idea or method, and they do not refuse to consider alternate approaches. In this way, Buddhist praxis is scientific, placing much greater confidence in the empirical method, than in doctrine. Buddhist teaching, buddhadharma, is more akin to scientific hypotheses, or a theory, to be examined and tested in our own experience. The conclusions of Buddhism were arrived at by its founder, Shakyamuni Buddha, in meditation, and are likewise confirmed by practitioners, as opposed to believers, directly through our own meditation and analysis. Reviewing, Zen Buddhist teachings fall into two major categories: descriptions of reality, and prescriptions for practice (see Basics of Buddhism). It is sometimes difficult to tell which is which, that is, what is the intent of a given Ancestor’s recorded expression or formulation. It is important not to confuse one for the other. The first Noble Truth is a description of reality: existence as being of the nature of suffering; the prescription is to understand it. The second, craving as the origin, is also a description of the nature of suffering, explaining how it starts, how it got to be this way, the causal conditioning of existence. The abandonment of craving is a prescription, a way to extricate oneself from self-imposed suffering. The third, cessation, describes the goal of practice as a prescription; we are to realize it in this lifetime. The fourth, the Path, is described as a daily prescription for right behaviors and attitude adjustments to realize the goal of wisdom, cessation of suffering. The Five Skandhas provide another descriptive model of existence, if from a less personal perspective, and the 12-Fold Chain is likewise a description of how things got to be the way they are, not actionable items in either case. The Six Perfections are similar to the Eightfold Path, prescriptions for behaviors and attitudes. The act of perfecting them—the action, not achieving imagined perfection, is the point; to bring about the realization of wisdom. Civilization conquers us, appealing to our worst angels. Social implications of the findings of Zen will necessarily be wildly speculative in nature. There are sure to be unintended consequences, that can not be taken into current consideration. We do not claim expertise in sociology, but merely attempt to compare the teachings of Buddhism to the conventional behavior and attitudes of the popular culture, in the hope that the exercise may yield some insight into the root of the problems; maybe even offer some avenues to their solution. You may be uncomfortable with certain Buddhist ideas, but they should not be rejected on the basis of fear. They are offered here simply for fair and impartial consideration, in the spirit of alternatives to conventional wisdom, and its imposition on our imagination. The future may be no less fuzzy when seen through the crystal ball of Buddhism. But it would surely look a lot different if the Western worldview were to embrace certain tenets it promulgates.

One Man’s Utopia Utopia is conventionally defined as ideal or perfect, a “place or state where everyone lives in harmony, and everything is for the best.” This is usually the stuff of Panglossian fiction, or relegated to science fiction, a hybrid of art and science Einstein refers to above. Arthur C. Clarke, recently deceased, along with Isaac Asimov, represent two standout examples of contemporary writers who bridged the gap between science and art. Lesser known is Olaf Stapledon, a pioneer of sci-fi, who apparently grasped relativity early on, and actually corresponded with Einstein about it. Their visions of the future, and the possibility of utopia, are based on their unique context, and resultant world view, mostly from a positive standpoint. There are competing visions of dystopia, from George Orwell, Aldous Huxley and Ray Bradbury, which skeptics and pessimists consider far more likely. But what if utopia could actually be realized? What would it be like? What would it take to actualize true freedom for all? The good grey doctor seems to have a perspective on freedom similar to that of Zen, the only freedom is as “free beings.” True freedom is free from the tyranny of the self; free to enquire and to freely observe the truth. One line in the Heart Sutra, chanted as liturgy, speaks of Bodhisattvas as being free of hindrances of the mind, free of fear, and free from delusion. According to Buddhism, this is the only true freedom. No one can give it to us, nor can anyone take it away. Blinded by personal hopes and wishes, imprisoned in the self, we cannot enter into reality, the “realm of Art and Science.” This is akin to the Taoist saying, “Caught by desire, we see only the manifestations; free from desire, we confront the mystery.” Einstein’s poetic description may be the closest definition to a true utopia that we may ever find: freed from our personal self.

The Real Revolution Usually, this kind of question, how to bring about utopia, even on a less ambitious scale, such as incrementally improving the human condition, elicits proposals for changes imposed from outside. Sweeping macrocosmic modifications to political and economic systems, involving wholesale transfers of power and wealth, are called for, predictably by us who feel our share, of the power or wealth in question, to be inadequate. But it seems that historically, such revolutions have inevitably seen the same, or similar, hierarchies of class and caste re-assert themselves, shortly after the revolution is over. The imposition of each new order from on high, seems always doomed to repeat unlearned lessons of history, and to carry the seed of its own downfall. It is rather transparent that if the utopian dream is ever to be achieved, of a true national or world community, it will require inner transformation of the individual. It cannot come about solely through the imposition of a new social system, no matter how well intentioned, well-designed and well- implemented. This fact will require some adjustment of expectations, and a reversal of the usual focus of reform. If the real revolution is to begin, it has to begin at home. What would be the implications if society embraced tenets of Buddhism? Let’s consider a few.

TREASURE HUNT: THREE JEWELS The Three Treasures or Jewels, of Buddhism represent three of Zen’s highest values: insight (buddha), truth (dharma), and community (sangha). While there is no hierarchy among the three; they are regarded as equally and intricately intertwined; insight is the essential ingredient to grasping the truth, as well as appreciating and fostering true community. The three minds (J. sanshin) cultivated in Zen: the magnanimous; the nurturing; and the joyful; are inseparable from the practice-enlightenment realized through community, truth, and insight.

Buddha The kind of insight that Buddhism values would come to replace that valued by Western society. The kind of insight valued in society often reinforces the conventional self. It tends to value insight into how things work, how to get ahead, get good grades in school, get a good job, how to make money, gain fame and fortune, work the stock market, get the better of someone in a deal. Insight of his kind is the servant of the self, of winning the game. Buddhism sees ignorance of the true self, buddha-nature, and obsessive belief in the constructed self, as the root of all the troubles of the world, from individual conflicts to world war. Nation states and other corporate entities are logical extensions of this illogical self. Insight into this deceptive self, then, is the highest value in Buddhism. As Master Dogen said, “To study the Buddhist way is to study the self; to study the self is to forget the self.” Forgetting this so-called self is the key to liberation.

Dharma The truth of Zen, dharma, is valued insofar as it clarifies the true conditions of our existence; what is important and what is not. Truth cannot be apprehended through study alone, but requires the direct insight found in meditation. The truth in Buddhism is not a conceptual idea or a belief, but is witnessed in our ordinary lives. The verbal teachings would be meaningless if they did not apply directly to daily life. This is why they are called the compassionate teachings; they recognize the truth of mutually shared suffering. Most tellingly, buddhadharma is not the truth that society values. Our acculturation from birth onward is designed to reinforce the false self. The truths that society points to amplify the self, encouraging us to gain material wealth, status and prestige, to put our loved ones above and before strangers. Even the practice of charity is viewed in the context of being a better person, a patron or benefactor, in which the self is glorified even more.

Sangha Community, sangha, is integral to the truth and insight of Buddhism. There is no such thing as an individual, one who lives in isolation, somehow apprehending the truth, and gaining insight into self-nature. The monastic and hermitic traditions in Zen illustrate not a rejection of community, but the necessity of retiring from the hurly-burly of civilization in order to practice meditation intensely for a time. The lay Buddhist sangha is not a cult, a common misconception. In fact, quite the opposite. Its members integrate with the larger community, and are carefully enabled and empowered to lead, through thorough training in meditation and necessary protocols. Each and every one of us in lay practice returns to the marketplace, eventually. The key attribute of the Buddhist ideal of community is harmony, but as long as the larger community is not dedicated to this ideal, it will be necessary to seek sanctuary from it. The community at large will become harmonious if and when its values become those of Buddhism: insight into the original or buddha nature; the teachings of truth in compassion, impermanence and emptiness; as well as the selfless value of harmony itself, in community.

MEDITATE NOT MEDICATE: FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS The Four Noble Truths are like the method a good doctor applies: diagnose the symptoms; identify the disease; prescribe the remedy; give a prognosis; provide the medicine and therapy; monitor the progress. Would that all of us would wake up to this definition of the central issue facing humanity today, and begin practicing it immediately. The first Noble Truth is often simplified, and somewhat distorted, as life is suffering. This negative misinterpretation of Buddha's teaching leads many to regard Buddhism as a pessimistic worldview. But Buddhism is neither pessimistic, nor overly optimistic. Buddhism is simply realistic. It does not teach that suffering is all that is, but that all exists by virtue of change. All that is, is in constant change, in order that what is to be can come into existence. Acceptance of the first Noble Truth, the existence of suffering in the form of aging, sickness and death—as perfectly natural, and okay—might mean that our attempts to avoid it might lose some of their appeal. Fear of pain, and rejection of even mild discomfort at any cost, is evidenced by the prevalence of a pill for every ill, including aids for everything from sleeping to waking, and performance enhancements for the full gamut of activities, from sexuality to competitive sports. An endemic aversion to death can be seen in the conduct of funerals that verges on hysteria, as well as life- extending measures for the terminally ill and aged, beyond all reason or compassion. Our youth- obsessed, fitness-crazed culture masks an underlying fear of, and suppressed obsession with, aging, sickness and death. If meditation works to mitigate our reactivity to suffering, we should hope to see meditation widely practiced as a natural therapy, to deal with the pain and discomfort of disease and injury, as well as psychological stresses of aging. As a person ages, the fear of death would be confronted on the cushion, reducing resistance to, and tendency to postpone, the inevitable. The impact of this kind of attitude shift on health care, the insurance business, and medicine itself, is difficult to estimate. Embracing the second Noble Truth, that the source of our suffering is primarily our own craving and clinging, might go far to alleviate the blame game that dominates so much of the public dialog. It could turn things around completely, from a victim mentality to one of true responsibility, assuming full responsibility for our own existence, the “self that is not others.” It should become clear that others are not really to blame—our parents, your spouse, my boss—in general, for our troubles. Exceptions granted for special cases, of course.

Natural Suffering Surely Buddhism’s promised end to suffering would be realized, in an actual Utopia. But what is meant by suffering? Suffering is necessary and natural; it is the way that nature evolves. And we are part of nature. Suffering cannot be avoided, according to Buddhism. So how does it cease? Taking on faith, for the time being, the third and fourth Noble Truths—that there can be a natural and lasting cessation of our own suffering, and that the eight-point plan of action, the Path, is the way to get there—such an idea could have welcome consequences. The embrace of suffering on a personal level would inoculate people, to a degree, against the vicissitudes of fate. If the expectation is that we will inevitably encounter suffering, when it inevitably comes, our reaction is likely to be that much less hysterical, that much more accepting and understanding. Why me, Lord? becomes Why not me? This does not suggest passive acceptance, or adopting a fatalistic outlook. It certainly does not propose that the suffering of others be ignored. It bears repetition that the teachings of Buddhism are reflected back on the self, not pointed at others. In that light, we do what we can, and what the doctor orders, within reason. But “When you get sick, you just get sick, and when you die, you just die.” This mindset would be truly transformative, especially for America, where sickness and death are typically objects of fear and loathing. If the existence of suffering is fully understood as natural, as Buddhism insists, and not something gone wrong, then society might no longer be devoted to its complete eradication, an impossible dream. It might cause the focus of medicine, the pharmaceutical industry, and end-of-life hospice care, to change; having lost the justification for, and patients’ near-paranoid obsession with, eliminating the slightest discomfort, both physical and emotional. Those who now resort to numbing pain through substance abuse, might wake up to the fact that, while they feel no pain during the high, there is always the comedown. Addiction, and the pursuit of happiness through lifestyle, would be seen for what they are, pathetic evasions. The method, not the aspiration to happiness, would be found wanting. If tribal elders, parents, and peers in particular, would teach, by example, an alternative that does actually work—without the hangover—the next generation might follow willingly. This development would not be popular with the purveyors of booze, drugs and the rest of it, of course. But they are people, too. If and when the demand for their temporary pain-killers reaches a low enough point, they will find something else to do. They may even resort to meditation to mitigate their own suffering. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

Path to Eternal Utopia The Four Noble Truths instruct that no form of existence, such as the present, is possible without suffering, or change. And yet they simultaneously hold out hope that suffering can, somehow, come to an end. Many might interpret this to mean that with death, the suffering of this life ends; one is finally laid to rest. But Buddhism’s view is not so simple. Death is not the end. It is sometimes said that Buddha was the first psychologist, in that he was concerned with the problem of suffering, and its resolution. Like a medical doctor, he diagnosed the existential illness of humanity, offered a prognosis, and developed a methodical treatment for alleviating suffering, through meditation and the Eightfold Path. Thus, in a very deep sense, Zen and its meditation form a kind of therapy, as opposed to religion or philosophy, as Alan Watts pointed out, on his television show, early in the transmission of Zen to America. This was the beginning of Zen’s association with Western psychology, which has an upside and a downside. Zen praxis and psychology do not share end objectives. We must be careful that Zen not be watered down as just another therapy, just as it is not to be confused with religion. Religions look to the end of suffering after death, through rebirth in heaven, or union with their God. Philosophies attempt to comprehend the whole mess conceptually, which offers a kind of aesthetic comfort in the face of otherwise incomprehensible suffering. Therapies are limited to working out mental disorder, neurosis, or a cluster of symptoms. Alternative medicine, and vaccination, rely on the natural response of the immune system to the introduction of a pathogen. All of these are healing arts, but they address different orders of disease than does Zen. In some ways, Zen is consonant with alternative medicine, i.e. Chinese. It confronts dis-ease of all kinds head-on, trusting that the natural emergence of the buddha nature will effect its own cure, given enough time. The therapy, so to speak, is not specific, but engages all aspects of our existence. The Path is not a yellow brick road to a distant utopia, but the gate to the present one. The Noble Eightfold Path prescribes a balanced approach to ending suffering in the context of various dimensions of everyday life. The first two, view and thought, comprise right wisdom; the next three, speech, action and livelihood, right conduct; the last three, effort, mindfulness and meditation, right discipline. If all of us, or at least a majority, could come to practice this kind of well-rounded approach to developing insight and wisdom in everyday life, its ripple effect might calm the turbid human waters of this world. But again, let’s start at home and go from there. Bittersweet Pill Buddha prescribed the most bitter, most wonderful, medicine of all. We are asked to recognize, and relinquish, craving itself, the addictive poison. This means letting go of the familiar I-me-mine, knee-jerk reaction to all challenges to the self and its accoutrements. It also means suspending our habitual tendency to judge and condemn, both self and other. Buddhism closely examines this self, the identified victim of suffering, to see into its true nature. This is the humble nobility of Buddha’s Four Truths. If we come to embrace them fully, we can never be a victim again. We are all victims of our own desire, victimized first and foremost by the non-existent self. The diminution of victim mentality that would result from everyone abandoning its source would be a most welcome contribution to a Utopian society. The upside to this teaching is that it is possible to come to fully understand the existence of suffering, to abandon craving, to realize cessation, and to fully follow the Path, all in this lifetime. In fact, it is not possible outside of this lifetime, which gives Zen its sense of urgency. The downside is that even if we complete this Path, it does not necessarily eliminate karmic consequences in future lives. The desire to escape karma is but one of the many cravings to be relinquished. But it is a start. If we can relinquish even the desire for an end to our own personal suffering, we can get on with the business of mitigating that of others. At least the most egregious self- and mutually-inflicted suffering may subside.

GET REAL: FIVE SKANDHAS The Five Skandhas, included as links in the 12-Fold Chain, comprise a description of reality as experienced by sentient beings. Emptiness is the most important attribute of the skandhas, or aggregates of clinging, as we have seen above (see Basics of Buddhism). That is, the very constituents of our existence that seem most real—form, sensation, perception, impulse, and our very consciousness —are not real in the way we think, or presume, that they are. In fact, Buddhism says these are heaps, or piles, empty of actual existence, self-existence. There is no there, there. Science should have no real problem with this, as its practitioners have come to similar conclusions by a different route. E=mc2 succinctly quantifies the relationship of the material to the immaterial. Eerily similar to That which is form is emptiness, or even more parallel, That which is emptiness is form. Perhaps Einstein was a closet Buddhist. Christian-style religion, in its focus on the spirit, and the afterlife, is similarly dubious about the reality of the present veil of tears, if for different reasons. But there is still that sticking, clinging attachment to our own ideas, opinions and beliefs about what appears to be concrete reality. If the self is not real, it does a very good imitation. If everyone could come to have this Alice-in-Wonderland awareness, that all is not as it seems, it might prompt a return to the sense of wonder and awe implied in the quote from Dr. Einstein, and indeed intrinsic to his life’s work. Perhaps what we are missing is so close, in both space and time, that no one can sense it. We have to go beyond the senses, embracing non-sense.

Do It Yourself The skandhas, as they relate to meditation, outline a model of experience, jumping off from everyone’s basic entry point, material form; our body-being in its environment. Then progressing through sensation, perception, impulse and consciousness; from the gross level of form, to the rarefied heights of consciousness-only, and, finally, no consciousness also. This is a natural process, and while not a strictly linear progression, nonetheless a self-directed spiritual journey. We can not know what any of this means until we know it for ourselves, and know for sure. This idea, that our deepest spiritual questions can be answered, simply by sitting still enough for long enough, rather than by seeking answers from others—priests, ministers, self-help gurus, et cetera— would certainly revolutionize the religion business. Not to mention what it would do to, and for, philosophy, psychology and psychiatry, or the feel-good over-the-counter prescription drug cartel. That it is too simple to be believed, is the point. It is fiendishly simple. That it is too difficult for most people to sustain without giving up, is the reason it is not happening in every home in America. In this country we are great do-it-yourselfers, until it comes to the truly important things. For the painfully personal issues of birth and death, health and happiness, and spiritual salvation, we turn to others, to experts in the field. It is understandable that we would do so in the highly technical, and potentially dangerous, areas of physical medicine. But if we look to others for solutions to our deepest spiritual needs, it is no wonder we are disappointed. Like contractors hired to repair and renovate your home, they often leave a bigger mess than they clean up. If you want it done right, do it yourself.

PRESCRIPTION FOR PERFECTION: SIX PARAMITAS Again, the teachings of Buddhism fall into two main categories: description and/or prescription. Many of the ancient texts and utterances of the Ancestors amount to cryptic descriptions of reality. It is difficult to impossible, to apply these directly to our practice, as they reflect a view formed, and informed, by insight. Many misunderstandings of Zen stem from this fact. For example, the contemporary master Shunryu Suzuki Roshi is said to have stated the realization of Zen’s truth as, “Things as it is.” This might be misinterpreted as “Japlish,” one of many examples of tortuous grammatical constructions in English, resulting from a Japanese-speaking teacher’s attempt to express a subtle Zen truth, in a second language. But this would be mistaken. We may think that things as it is means things as they are, and therefore, the right understanding is that which we already have. But things as it is means things as they really are, not as we suppose them to be, based on our everyday perception and conception. Only when things as they are finally fall apart, through meditation, can they finally be reconstituted as Things as it is. All things as it really is. The Paramitas, or Perfections, of Buddhism are further examples of prescriptions for practice. But the process in Zen is one of perfecting, rather than striving for an imagined state of perfection. In meditation, for example, we continue to aim at the perfect posture, never imagining that we have finally achieved it: posture paramita. In this way, beginners and advanced meditators all pursue essentially the same practice, that of the beginner’s mind (J. shoshin). The effort, on the cushion as well as off, is in a sense aimless, in that the goal is far to big, broad and deep to preconceive. So the best we can do is to just do our best, without expectation. We can hold an aspiration, but we must give up specific expectations. But the Western mindset seems to put perfection before perfecting, with a predictable degree of impatience, when the hoped-for expectation is not met. Then comes the cheating of drug-dosing, faking research results, sacrificing principle for personal gain. Would that all would accept failure as the natural complement, and precursor to, success. Then we might begin to see true perfection of effort, in humility, in all areas of human endeavor.

Generous to a Fault The practice of Generosity (dana) also gets mixed reviews in the American culture and economy. It’s as if the American public persona has a Jekyll and Hyde aspect, where greed is good does battle with do unto others, Wall Street versus the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Which will ultimately win out, is anyone’s guess. Americans often congratulate themselves on their generosity to other nations, which claims are countered by statistics showing that other countries actually contribute more, on a per capita basis. Calamities that befall other nations, and even states within the borders of the United States seem always to cause a great flurry of action, and wall-to-wall coverage in the media, followed by finger- pointing and tapering-off of interest, owing to disaster fatigue or attention fickleness syndromes, or both. As Garrison Keillor, the great satirist, commented on a most recent tragedy, a massive earthquake in Haiti, in an essay:

Great heaps of dead bodies are moved by front loaders and dumped, uncounted, unidentified, into open pits in a stricken country while people feast and walk treadmills on enormous cruise ships sailing a hundred miles off the coast en route to the Bahamas and Jamaica. That’s the real world, not the paranoid hallucinations of the right.

The focus of the column, to which the last line returns, is on the ongoing, politicized health care debate, the poignant comment on Haiti provided merely as context. A letter to the editors, just next to the column, boasted the headline America’s generosity continues to inspire. Where is the generosity in allowing—and if you believe the political analysis, helping to facilitate—this situation in Haiti to deteriorate over decades, through not-so-benign neglect; then rushing in like so many white knights, after the catastrophe predictably strikes? This question applies to man-made as well as natural disasters, but even the latter are often, if not always, exacerbated by the former. How can the historically unimaginable wealth of today’s first world, exist side-by-side with such extreme poverty and deprivation? Where was the much-vaunted generosity of spirit of humanity, during the run-up to disaster? Haiti is only one such catastrophe. One important thing to understand about the perfecting of generosity in Buddhism, and its application to Western attitudes, is that it is not a one-way street. It is non-dual, not a matter of one person or group, the givers, practicing charity, the other, takers, merely recipients of said charity. Those Buddhists who can, practice charity by following the teaching and method of Buddhism directly, including material renunciation, as in the monastic model, and sharing the dharma assets—Zen-related material goods as well as immaterial services—with others. Those who cannot practice charity this way, full-time, offer dana to support those who do, the priesthood. They also exercise generosity by attending service, participating in group meditation, discussion, and home practice; and donating what they can of in-kind materials and goods as well as finances. This approach is fairly typical of all charities and religions—churches, synagogues and mosques—as well as Zen temples. But there are many who do not practice dana. In Buddhism, any form of work that benefits others—any vocation, with few exceptions—is considered a form of charity, even when the worker is compensated financially. What kind of effect might this definition—of any job, however lowly—have on the psychology of employment in this country? A job would no longer be for the benefit of the job-holder only, nor a competition between the employer and the employed. Both would be engaged in delivering products and services to others who, for whatever reason, cannot or will not provide for themselves. This is the true dignity of work, according to this Buddhist view. It is charity.

PRECEPT OR PRECONCEPTION: TEN GRAVE PRECEPTS Buddhist Precepts are also prescriptions for practice, though they may hint at a description of reality, by implication. The Ten Grave Precepts are often represented, in the ceremony of receiving Precepts (J. Jukai), as the precepts of buddhas and bodhisattvas, a description of the natural way of life of an enlightened being. Yet they are, simultaneously, prescriptions for our practice in all aspects of daily life. It is understood that all such teachings are provisional, and that when they reach fruition, will no longer obtain as prescriptions for our personal practice, but will describe our new normal reality. Another way to look at Precepts is to understand that everyone has already received certain precepts—from their parents, peers, teachers, and society at large. These may be unconscious, but people still act, and see their world, based on them. For example, nearly everyone, by the time s/he reaches the age of reason, has a complete and similar set of cultural precepts, about killing, lying, stealing, et cetera. Sociopaths, misfits, and others base their worldview and behavior on precepts that are widely at variance with those of the society at large. Usually it is assumed that antisocial or criminal behavior is based on conscious decisions, but it seems more likely that the inner justification for such maladaptive survival skills is to be found on a much deeper level, one of the subconscious mind. Receiving the Precepts of Buddhism may function to raise our subliminal precepts to consciousness for the first time, by presenting, as they do, an alternative view of social and personal behavior and its consequences. All larger associations of human beings behave according to precepts, implicit or explicit. The medical profession, for example, shares the first Buddhist Precept, Do no harm. Business and industry operate based on their own precepts, as do governments and other institutions, such as educational systems, football teams, the military, Congress. Entire cultures subscribe to precepts, whether or not their members are conscious of them. So it may be illuminating to look at American culture in the context of Buddhist Precepts. Just what kind of utopia might it be, if we based our society on the Precepts and prescripts of Buddhism?

WHAT IF WE: Do no harm The first, Do no harm, is the Mother of all Precepts. All other Precepts are essentially specific case examples of this one general principle. It is familiar as the Hippocratic oath, a historical, ethical standard associated with the medical profession. The difficulty comes when we realize that we cannot, really, do no harm, in any absolute sense of the phrase. In some situations, avoiding harm to one person may involve harming another, as in triage decisions following natural disaster, or in the wake of war. In Buddhsim, the Jataka Tales, apocryphal stories of Buddha’s former lives, include a story in which Buddha kills a man who was killing others. This stopped the carnage, but also cut off further karmic consequences that additional killing would entail. These tales are apocryphal, but they illustrate the point, this one of a more expansive meaning of compassion. Compare to the more recent, and unquestionably and unfortunately true story, that of the Terry Schiavo case, where the needs of politics once again trumped those of compassion. Here, the harm that was done, by whom and to whom, depends on whose ox was being gored, a telling turn of a phrase. In the context of endemic, neurotic aversion to aging, death and disease, however, it becomes impossible to know where the attempts to do no harm—for the sake of combating natural suffering—itself does unnecessary harm. There is a point of diminishing returns, where all the technological extensions of a person’s life begin to do more harm than they prevent. If those in the helping professions, as well as their patients, adopted meditation as a central part of the healing process early on in life, the distinction might be more clearly discernible. Meditation tempers our discernment, and acceptance of natural harm—of sickness, aging and death. Just to exist is to do harm, in the sense of consuming other living beings. But without attempting to resolve all the contradictions in attempting to do no harm, we may do well to look at a broad-brush picture of these Buddhist Precepts as they might apply to society. Doing so will raise more questions than answers, which is characteristic of Zen. But just imagine, what if everyone, without exception, did their best to do no harm, and to follow each of the great and grave Precepts of Buddhism. What if we all vowed to:

1. Affirm life—do not kill This is a difficult one, probably the reason it comes first in the Grave Precepts. As life consumes life, how do we not kill? How does the current culture look, when held up to the light of this prescription? Where does the exercise of war, the factory farming of livestock, fit, or do they? How do abortion and end-of-life issues find resolution? How about hunger, ethnic cleansing and natural disasters, on the global scale? How do we affirm life, and avoid killing, when we must kill to survive? The Precepts of Buddhism can be approached on many levels, their final meaning residing somewhere between the conceptual and the actual, as lived in daily life. For example, not to kill can be considered from several different logical perspectives, such as the relative, the absolute, the concrete, or the social. On the relative level, not killing is literally impossible, and so we are left with doing the best we can to affirm life, in spite of the fact that we have to eat. Vegetarianism and vegan lifestyles find their rationale here. But there are still areas of the world where it is not possible to survive without eating meat. Some draw the line at anything with a face. Some are omnivores. From an absolute perspective, we can argue that all life is doomed to aging, sickness and death, so our best efforts at affirming life—if interpreted as preventing death—are doomed to failure. We may act as the agent, in bringing about the premature death of others, through harvesting crops and slaughtering livestock, but those plants and animals are destined to age and die in some manner. So affirming life may amount to making the lives and deaths of food animals as natural and painless as possible, which ironically is called humane, another indication of humanity’s high self-regard. Concretely, whatever intellectual knots we tie ourselves up in, the reality is that all of life is consuming all of life, including that of humans. That is, the laws of survival are operative, no matter our personal sentiments about the fact. Zen allows us to see the facts of life clearly, and to accept that, like the rest of the living, we, too, are food. We, too, are dying, all the time we are living. At some point, the great recycling machine that is the world of life, will grind up our bodies, as grist to the mill. Imagine the effect, if only on the funeral business, of society’s adopting a more balanced view of life and death, recognizing the inevitability and naturalness of dying. What if all of us were to sincerely take up the way of not killing, as a standard for society, in spite of its impossibility from a literal perspective? At least, those who now inflict such monstrous suffering on others intentionally, for whatever political or twisted reasons, would no longer be able to justify their actions, based on some trumped-up precept of a lesser good. 2. Be giving—do not take what is not freely given This one seems a bit more accessible, in that it is usually obvious when we take something that is not rightfully ours. But when we look at what has happened in recent years to the livelihood and retirement plans of many working Americans, and all the political posturing and finger-pointing, it gets more complicated. For example, when we see Wall Street running roughshod over Main Street, we have to wonder: Are those profits freely given? Judging by the uproar, taxpayer funds given to the banks as bailouts were certainly not—freely given, that is—not by the taxpayers, anyway. Not to mention the looting of entire countries by generations of the privileged and powerful, once in the form of state empires, but more recently, also international corporations. Speaking of profits, as of this writing, Google reported record quarterly earnings of 2 billion dollars, a new record for one quarter. That is twice as much as so far invested in the recovery efforts in Haiti, the international tragedy du jour, by several entire countries (including poverty-stricken Liberia, which, poignantly, could only spare around 50 thousand dollars). Nation states have traditionally been regarded, in Buddhism, as at best provisional realities, but in truth empty, conceptual projections of the non-existent self. Now, this is more evident, as super- corporations eclipse countries as such, becoming the economic powers and governmental entities of the world. Of course, corporations are no more real entities than nations, but their owners exert real control over the economy. And disastrous lack of control of the environment. Accelerating the trend in America, with the recent 5-4 ruling of the Supreme Court, corporations now have more-than-equal rights than actual citizens to invest in the political process. Given their massive reserves of capital (now recognized as “free speech”), many pundits predict that this will surely further erode the influence of government by, for, and of, the people. Again we have to ask: Are these rights, and the power that they confer, freely given? If so, by whom, to whom, and on behalf of whom? How is this not stealing? How can we be giving? From the absolute perspective, it can be argued that you cannot actually steal. You may think you can steal, and others may think you stole something from them. But when you have the big picture in mind, nothing is really owned, in any real sense. Nothing goes to the grave with us, other than our deeds. Again, Marx—Karl, not Groucho—pointed out that we can use, not own. We are all consuming, at all times. Breathing, for instance, is consuming air. To all intents and purposes, it is freely given, under normal circumstances in nature. But if a coal-fired power plant is built just upwind, our supply of fresh air is taken away from us, replaced by smokestack pollution. If we are in a desert with limited potable water, or a situation where oxygen is limited, as in a mine disaster, the air each of us inhales is, in effect, stolen from the others. In Zen Buddhism, a stark difference in attitude toward consumption is pointed out in the Meal Verse, chanted in monasteries and meditation centers, which includes the lines, “We regard greed as the obstacle to freedom of mind; we regard this meal as medicine to sustain our life.” In this context, greed is defined as taking too much rice! The name for the formal Zen Buddhist monastic style of eating means “just enough” (J. oryoki). Just enough to sustain life, the original meaning of sustenance. This attitude, which must be seen as hopelessly naïve, even childlike in its innocence, in the context of rampant consumerism and the winner-take-all mindset in society at large, is nonetheless typical of the worldview inculcated through Zen practice. What kind of society would we have if everyone practiced this kind of humility, where overeating is not regarded on the scale of epidemics of obesity, or as a social disease, but a personal, minute example of a first step down the slippery slope of greed? What kind of utopia might we have if everyone based their lifestyle and appetites on the principle of how much is really enough? Oryoki might become the next big diet craze. 3. Honor the body—do not engage in sexual misconduct What seems a bit obvious, if unexamined, is largely a matter of the social compact, which varies from society to society, throughout history, and depending on circumstances, as documented by anthropology and sociology. One tribe’s taboo is another’s sacred ritual. A bit of surfing the Internet will quickly show that never in your wildest dreams could you come up with so many variations on the theme of sexual conduct. And not only in the human species. Animals, even plants, are sexual beings. Flowers are genitalia, after all. Which of such behaviors constitute misconduct? When is any form of sexual conduct not misconduct? Some would suggest that when it leads to procreation, or when it is sanctified by marriage, it is okay. Within reason, and certain approved positions. Would it were so simple. Observing this Precept may not simply be a matter of classifying the gamut of sexual behaviors, as such, an impossible task; but rather an exercise in the right conduct side of the Noble Eightfold Path. Therein we find speech, action, and livelihood as three dimensions of ethical conduct. It seems transparent that at a bare minimum, right or ethical conduct would at least be internally consistent. But when we look unflinchingly at our fellow Americans (and in the mirror), especially at professional purveyors of ethics and morality in American culture, we too often see the opposite. Speech often has little or nothing to do with action or livelihood, other than to deflect attention or throw up smokescreens. We talk the talk, but do not walk the walk. More precisely, we do not walk the talk. We don’t do what we say, or practice what we preach. If we were unfailingly honest and forthcoming about what are called sexual indiscretions, they would not be indiscretions. Relying on our internal moral compass is, unfortunately, subject to unconscious conditioning, assimilated in growing up. Guilt may be just as misinformed as smug certainty, in this complex arena. It is understandable why so many Ancestors of Buddhism practiced celibacy. It is not that it is morally correct, but manifestly so much simpler. This is an area of deep and conflicting emotion, and the stench of hypocrisy. Honoring the body, as the fruit of many births, necessary to spiritual awakening, would be a breath of fresh air.

4. Manifest truth—do not speak falsely This admonition is directly related to the above pairing of speech and action. But when we look at the culture, where do we see the truth being spoken, e.g. to power, as the popular expression has it? Who even knows the truth, let alone is able to speak it? Is it actually possible to not speak falsely? In saying anything about anything, we necessarily leave out the rest of the story. Is a partial truth still true? If truth be told, what would it say? Speech is like a snapshot. The camera excludes infinitely more than it can include, in the picture. Same for a written piece, such as this text, or an editorial in the newspaper. The window is much too small to make room for the whole truth. More prosaically, we usually regard violation of this precept as bearing false witness, or more innocently, telling a white lie. But Buddhism suggests that truth can not be told. This may be why the Buddha often fell back on the expedient mean of not saying anything. It was called the golden silence of Buddha, expressing the truth far more eloquently and accurately than all the 80,000 sutras combined. Of course, there are cases where it may not help, and even do harm to others, to insist upon telling the literal truth. The truth, dharma, in Buddhism, is a deeper principle. If we apprehend the important truth, the dharma, it is beyond words. It can only be manifested, in our actions. If we and our fellow citizens would only adopt the admonition to do our best to live the truth, rather than say whatever will accomplish our goals of persuasion, evading responsibility or avoiding punishment, what a wonderful world it would be. Then we would have the luxury of examining the deeper meaning of manifesting absolute truth.

5. Proceed clearly—do not cloud the mind with intoxicants This also seems pretty cut and dried on first consideration. Either we are sober or we are not. But Master Dogen pointed out that when we take the tonsure (shave the head at ordination) we are already intoxicated. Intoxication, delusion, or infatuation, is one of the three poisons. When we look at our culture (and ourselves in it) we see that everyone is already intoxicated, if by different intoxicants. There are the usual suspects, so-called addictive substances, such as alcohol and drugs. People who imbibe are seen as inferior to the sober citizens who are on the straight and narrow. It is less obvious that they, the sober, are also intoxicated: by power; fame and fortune; status and prestige; creature comforts; a higher standard of living; a sense of superiority over others. Or drunk on the other two poisons, greed and hatred, or anger. These common addictions, or afflictions, are often more grievous than those of substance abusers. Tellingly, the definition of an addictive substance—“A drug is usually regarded as causing true physical dependence when its with withdrawal causes a significant degree of discomfort”—applies to just about all the substances we need to survive. Try that with air, water, food, warmth, shelter, et cetera. A significant degree of discomfort sets in, in about five minutes without air, a few days without water, a matter of weeks without food. In other words, we are addicted to life. We are all addicts, and that should give us pause in looking down upon those pitiful, identified addicts, who simply pile another addiction on top of what is already addiction. It might also help if professionals in the business of treating addicts (usually unsuccessfully) were to recognize this fact. Compassion means suffer with, suffer together. The perceived and reinforced separation of those who are addicted (patient) and those who are not (doctor) is probably a large part of the problem. As to proceeding clearly, Zen meditation is, itself, a form of deep and thorough withdrawal, withdrawing from the senses, from our attachment to and infatuation with the skandhas. It is a process of completely sobering up, in the midst of addiction. Only when free of compulsion and obsession, can we proceed with any clarity. May we harbor hope, that the citizens of our country and, indeed the world, might someday come to sober up to the fact that intoxicants are not needed to be happy? Intoxication itself is not the problem, other than the fact that the toxic substance is, by definition, poison. Even elephants are said to seek out fermented melons, to get a buzz on. While drunk, we are feeling no pain, for a while. It’s just that it leads to breaking the other Precepts so much more readily, and unintentionally. This is not proceeding clearly. In the context of so many other cravings relentlessly promoted in this society—the pursuit of consumption as happiness—it can only lead to the inevitable hangover. What kind of utopia would promote natural intoxication, or at least happy moderation? What would life be like if it were forever free of hangovers, of all kinds?

6. See only your own faults—Do not discuss the faults of others Talk about a sea change in behavior! Witnessing the daily media orgy of finger-pointing, this may be the Precept voted least likely to gain a foothold in America. Of course, we can discuss the behavior of others without judging, or considering it to be a fault, but it does not seem natural in this society. No one is suggesting that we excuse criminal or destructive behavior, based on some kind of misguided political correctness. In Buddhism, we are responsible for acts of commission, as well as those of omission. But if we take the teachings of Buddhism to heart, once again, we do not point them at others as criticism. To do so would basically amount to a futile exercise in propping up the self. And if we truly accept karmic consequences of our own behavior, as the operating principle of balance in the Universe, then we see that the behavior of others is already connected to its consequence, as the cart is tethered to the ox. An example from the history of Zen illustrates the difference between seeing the behavior of others for what it is, and the more usual finding fault. The sixth patriarch of Zen in China, Hui Neng, was visited by a 13-year old monk, Shen-hui, who would eventually become his successor. He asked the master, “In your meditation, sir, do you see [your essence of mind] or not?” “I see and I see not,” retorted the patriarch. “How is it that you see and see not?” asked Shen-hui. “What I see is my own faults,” replied the patriarch. “What I do not see is the good, the evil, the merit, and the demerit of others. That is why I see and I see not.” So, if we believe him, this ancient Zen master saw his own faults, but did not see the faults of others. He clearly saw their behavior, but did not make judgments concerning it. His critical attention is completely focused upon his own faults. If this fully enlightened master didn’t see the behavior of others as faults, what did he see, exactly, in their behavior? He didn’t simply ignore it, but saw its true meaning. Understanding of this meaning is the essence of Buddhism. As long as we are engaged in interpreting behavior in a judgmental way, we cannot see its meaning. What would the world be like if we not only did not discuss the faults of others, but didn’t even see them? Didn't see them as faults, that is?

7. Know self and other as one—Do not praise yourself at others’ expense The flip side of not discussing the faults of others is not praising yourself. Doing so would always, necessarily, be at the expense of others, even if you lived in a cave. You would be implicitly criticizing all those benighted souls who live in society, instead of in a cave, like you. Modesty of the sort implied here does seem in short supply in our public life. In fact, it seems that the new celebrity is based on the opposite, immodesty, rendering humility a quaint quirk. In all aspects of life, it seems that we are expected to have an opinion, to take pride in our lifestyle, and to defend our right—to be right—to the death. And, preferably, at the top of our lungs. In this context, someone who can admit to any confusion, and honest uncertainty, is either suspect, or marginalized. But, actually, such voices eventually stand out, by contrast to the cacophony of self-promotion. Such as that of Gandhi. Or Jesus. Or Buddha. Imagine a culture that values shyness, self-effacement, and a tendency to defer to others. Therein, actualizing the phrase, know self and other as one, might become possible. In which case, the media ginning-up of conflict, and the rant radio fad, would go out of fashion, finally.

8. Share generously—Do not spare the Dharma assets Again with the generosity thing. But not sparing the dharma assets is a bit more specific. It does mean helping others in material ways, to support them in their pursuit of the truth, but also not to begrudge any experience or understanding you may have of the dharma, however small and insignificant. But this does not suggest proselytizing, declaiming from the rooftops, or even talking about Zen and Buddhism uninvited. Even amongst family and friends, it is best that they develop curiosity first, by your example. The last thing Buddhists want to do is to impose their spiritual practice, not to say beliefs, upon others. No apostolic imperative to save souls in Zen. But if others are sincere, and want to know about Zen, its followers must respond honestly and sincerely. Unlike some religions, Buddhism does not claim to be the bearer of exclusively good news. The buddhadharma, particularly the doctrine of no-self, went against the current of conventional wisdom and popular philosophy at its inception, and remains sobering today. It includes the bad news as well as the good, including a realistic assessment of the enormity of overcoming the monkey mind, the difficulty of engendering genuine insight into the true self. Imagine the shift in paradigm, of the passing parade of preachers and proselytizers, if they took to heart the admonition that they should share their doctrinal assets only if and when asked; or if they took to educating by example, rather than preaching from the pulpit.

9. Actualize harmony—Do not indulge in anger The key word here is indulge. Buddhism does not teach that we should never feel anger, any more than that we should go to great lengths to avoid suffering. That would be unrealistic. Indulging anger, however, goes way beyond simply feeling it. Indulgence is a sense of self-righteousness that allows us to wallow in anger while blaming it on others. This can become a way of getting better and better at indulging ourselves in anger over time, through its rehearsal. In effect, we often end up rehearsing angry speech and action, going over and over the same ground, reacting in anger to every incident, or ruminating obsessively over real and imagined slights from the past. We get better and better at reacting angrily; the synapses that fire in the brain grow larger and stronger, as they do with any repeating cycle of thought. Thus, the cycle of anger is self- reinforcing, and takes on a life of its own, resulting in uncontrolled rage. Letting it out does not get rid of the source, quite the opposite. But anger also gives us the energy, the release of adrenaline, that enables us to react quickly to situations we judge to be dangerous, or behavior that is harmful to others, or just wrong, and against actions we feel to be evil. So anger is sometimes called for. So how to avoid this self-fulfilling syndrome? Matsuoka Roshi would often say:

Thinking an angry thought is like cutting water with a knife; the water closes behind the blade and leaves no trace. Speaking out of anger is like cutting sand; it takes a long time for the wind to smooth out the groove. But acting out of anger is like cutting stone; it takes forever for the scar to wear away.

This relates to the right conduct side of the Eightfold Path; right speech, action and livelihood can not be based upon anger, but anger does not necessarily contravene their judicious use. Anger regarding injustice has fueled some of the most enlightened legislation in history, and is the cutting edge of comedy and satire, which have often been employed to good ends. While everyone feels anger, often justifiably, acting out of anger usually makes matters worse, and does nothing to foster harmony, either in single relationships, or groups. Or, more centrally, in our own relationship to the world. Those who work with materials and objects often react in anger to frustration, when the material world does not cooperate with their will. People slam doors and break furniture, often as a display to others, but even when alone. We take it out on inanimate objects, defenseless pets, friends and family members. Not much wisdom here. But anger is not always ego. If a child runs in the street, Mom is suddenly very angry, following an initial momentary reaction of fear. Anger can be the reaction to a threat to something we hold dear. What is precious to us can include our religious or philosophical belief, which when attacked, fairly or unfairly, or held up to ridicule, triggers an angry reaction. Especially if the attack is public, and propagandistic. Note the use of the word trigger; the event does not cause the anger, though it can be considered a conditioning influence. And anger, if suppressed or ignored, simply festers. What to do? We say You made me angry, which, according to pop psychology, gives too much power over our feelings to the other person, typically a family member, colleague, boss, or ex-spouse. But the anger we feel is our own; it cannot come from others, though we may feel their anger. As children, we react in anger to certain events and circumstances, to parents and siblings. As a preteen, an adolescent, or teenager, different things trigger angry reactions, fueled by raging hormones. As an adult, yet other kinds of conditions, such as the job, bosses and/or co-workers, a spouse or child, become objects of anger. But objects are not causes. While the objects, or triggers, change, the anger stays the same. Which indicates that the anger does not come from the circumstances. They only trigger the feeling of anger, or, if unchecked, blind rage. So the true source of the anger must be something deeper, a source that is always there throughout our life, always ready to flare up. Like a solar flare, triggered by an anomaly, a sun spot. The energy is ever-present, just under the surface, of the sun, or the mind. Matsuoka Roshi pointed to the true source of anger with a parable:

A rat lives in a burning house. The rat runs away from the flames, but soon runs into another wall of flame; runs the other way, but encounters another insurmountable wall of fire. Pretty soon the rat is cornered, flames closing in all around. What does the rat do?

We might come up with clever Zen answers, such as, The rat jumps into the flames, but one thing is certain: the rat feels angry. This indicates that the true source of anger is the underlying reality. We are in a deteriorating situation—mortal life—that we cannot control. Naturally, this realization is accompanied by helplessness, fear, and anger. We want to do something, to strike out against it. Buddha told a similar story of a father who tricks his children into leaving a burning house, by promising them a wonderful vehicle. The burning house is existence itself, life, which Buddha described as burning, burning, burning with desire. What kind of world would we inhabit, and leave as a legacy to future generations, if all of us practiced anger management, simply by recognizing its true source? And, further, allowing ourselves to feel it, without needing to speak, or act, out of it? Some people go so far as to turn to a livelihood based on venting anger, including a life of crime, politics, or rant radio. What effect would a rational and balanced attitude toward anger have on crime, especially crimes of passion?

10. Know intimacy with all things—Do not defame the Three Treasures The last of the ten Grave Precepts refers back to the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, the highest values of Buddhism expressed as true or original nature, truth or teachings, and community. The last represents both the congregation of Zen followers as well as the larger community of neighborhood, village, city, state and nation. Defaming means to bring disrepute to any or all of these valued dimensions of the practice; through our behavior, of body, speech, and mind. But in a larger sense, revering the three Treasures, along with the other Precepts, is not restricted to the followers of Buddhism. Knowing intimacy with all things recognizes that we are all in the same boat together, navigating the ocean of Samsara to the other shore of Nirvana. Intimacy is closeness in space, as well as in time, immediacy; but also to self. The true self is so close to the false, or constructed, self that the two cannot be separated. So, in studying the self, through meditation, we come to transcend the self. This is intimacy with all things. All things are manifesting the dharma, all sentient beings included, whether they know it or not. Becoming intimate with all things, this truth becomes apparent to us and not just an idea. What would the world be like if we all recognized that it is, just as it is, what we are seeking? All of the trouble in the world is caused by humanity; with notable exceptions of examples of animals being cruel to each other, again, rationalized by us as for the sake of survival. But we are the only beings who can find fault. We create and invent the fall from grace. Then we pass it on, in the form of ideas, beliefs and opinions based on ignorance, to the next generation. Bringing this vicious cycle to an end will require more than a simple change of mind, a new concept of reality. It will require nothing less than that human beings wake up to the real reality that Buddha discovered. Then, for the first time in history, the possibility of utopia becomes real. BIRTH, DEATH AND REBIRTH: TWELVE-FOLD CHAIN The 12-fold Chain of Interdependent Origination models how things got to be as they are. The fourth skandha, mental formations or impulse, second link in the chain, is connected to karmic consequences from former lives, as well as conditioned by, and conditioning of, the present one. Birth as a human being is not considered an accident in Buddhism, but an intentional act driven by the desire to exist, conditioned by circumstances deriving from the nature of our carnality; which can be mitigated only by insight, seeing into that very nature (J. kensho). The cause of birth, then, is not solely the sexual congress of our parents. Parentage is one of the many conditions affecting birth. It is posited that we have a karmic affinity for our parents, before birth, and that is how the relationship is established. The cause of death is similarly complex. It is not simply whatever an attending physician is able to identify, but a complex of causes and conditions that begin at birth. According to Buddhism, these causes and conditions even precede birth. Life itself is the primary cause of death, and vice-versa. Death was the only, predictable, outcome, at our birth. That we tend to fear death, but welcome and celebrate birth, makes little sense in this context. Birth must be at least as traumatic as death, maybe even more so. The experience of the extreme shock and trauma of natural birth, where the infant sometimes experiences broken bones while passing through the birth canal, may be sufficient to wipe our any conscious memory of it, especially given the still-forming nervous system and brain of the newborn. Similarly, the process of dying may be traumatic enough to suppress any conscious memory of the event, including the erasing of any memory of the previous life leading to death and rebirth. Buddha is said to have seen his former lives, by the tens, by the hundreds, by the thousands. But what he saw was not him. Rebirth is not reincarnation of the same person. His prior lives were other persons. There is no essence, entity, self or soul that transmigrates from one life to the next, according to his report. This is extremely fuzzy logic, if not completely illogical. People sometimes report seeing past lives, through hypnosis, séance, and other extrasensory or paranormal experiences. Tellingly, they often see themselves as a famous or important person in history, or at least a glamorous or interesting individual. Most people would say they have no experience of past lives, or rebirth. But according to the principle of rebirth, this very present life is rebirth. It is the result of all that preceded it, including past lives and beyond, to the evolution of the universe from the beginning to the present. So if we look at our present life, we can see clearly the result of past lives. This is that. If rebirth is the truth, it has certain ramifications. For example, relationships do not actually begin in this lifetime, and conversely they can not be said to end in one lifetime. The same persons are never reborn in the same configuration, but those who have passed away are still here, in a different form. Anxiety related to death and loss would be seen for what it is, a paranoid fantasy. We have no idea what will happen after death; it is part of the Great Mystery. We only know that there is no other end to this life, regardless of what religions hopefully hold out as comforting beliefs. Buddhism holds out the theory, or hope, we can actually anticipate and rehearse the death process, on the cushion. The history of Zen is replete with examples of great teachers who, when the time came, simply sat down in zazen and passed away peacefully. Rebirth, as with all of Buddhist teachings, is neither pessimistic, nor overly optimistic. It simply says that after this life, we can basically expect more of the same. This world is essentially the same experienced by our ancestors, just as it is. That the one that experiences future consequences of this lifetime, is not the same one experiencing it now, does not change the fact that life goes on. Entertainment, and even acceptance, of this paradigm would bode a lot better for the future than the attitude, and social consequences thereof, that we only go around once in life, grabbing for all the gusto we can get. Based on that worldview, we go panting through life, chasing dreams and fantasies; and then, kicking and screaming into death, pathetically not realizing that this is one of a cycle of rebirths. What would be the likely consequence, of widespread embrace of the doctrine of rebirth, which is inseparable from that of karma? For one example, the justice system would be based on the premise that it is not necessary to punish anyone for committing a crime; the consequence is already in the act. It will manifest in their life, now or future. Of course, it is necessary to protect society from criminal behavior, but the perpetrators would be seen as what they are, ignorant, rather than evil. It might even become possible to truly rehabilitate them. And we could rest assured that those who die peaceful deaths after living a life of crime and atrocity against others, will meet their comeuppance in the great scales of karma, the only true justice. The fear that drove them to extremes in life accompany them in death, which is surely the true hell.

This chapter looks at possible implications for society of the teachings of Buddhism, understanding that widespread adoption of the worldview and wisdom of Zen would rely upon the personal conversion of individuals, which can only come about through direct experience, usually in meditation. Nonetheless, simply exposing the attitudes and perspectives of Zen in the context of Western society is a first step, however halting, in that process. It is hoped that the readers have been convinced, if nothing else, of the advisability of giving the approach of Zen Buddhism, especially zazen, a chance in their lives. The ripple effect on the culture, of a minority taking up this way, is not to be underestimated. If each can begin to establish a personal utopia, it may open the dharma-gate to a worldwide utopia, or at least to an island of sanity, in the ocean of Samsara. CONCLUSION

PAST AS PROLOGUE

… to perform an act whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, in yours and my discharge. — Shakespeare, The Tempest Act 2, scene 1, 245–254

The first section, PAST, encapsulates recent, well-reported events, along with a brief review of the basics of Buddhism, to set the stage for the middle and last sections, PRESENT and FUTURE. To draw needed contrast, the PAST necessarily reprises the conflict ginned up by the media and proponents of a radically conservative, Christianity-based worldview, against that of science. It examines the Intelligent Design mantra, creationism dressed up as a theory capable of challenging the truth of evolution. Hopefully, it inculcates an appreciation of the relatively trivial import of 24-hour cycle news, with its bumper-sticker mentality, compared to the timeless truths of ancient Buddhism, and their relevance to today’s real-world issues. The past is the last act—just played and now finished—which sets the stage for the next act, always performed in the present. Thus time flows from past to present to future, in our linear perception of it, but also from present to past, from past to future, from future to the present, and so on. It is not simply Macbeth’s “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…” creeping on in a petty pace forever, but, according to Master Dogen:

Existence-Time has the virtue of passing in a series of moments. That is to say, from today it passes through a series of moments to tomorrow; from today it passes through a series of moments to yesterday; from yesterday it passes through a series of moments to today; from today it passes through a series of moments to today; and from tomorrow it passes through a series of moments to tomorrow. Because passage through separate moments is a virtue of Time, moments of the past and present are neither piled up one on top of another nor lined up in a row…

Experience of time is always in the present: we never actually experience the past, or the future. Nonetheless, in Zen, we do not ignore the influence of the past on the present, nor that of the present on the future. This is what is meant by being one with causality. Existence-time is Master Dogen’s way of describing the comprehensive reality, which Einstein later labeled spacetime. With quantum physics thrown into the mix, science reaches higher and higher approximations of the way the universe works, the how of the non-duality of all dimensions of existence, a central theme of Buddhism. THE OLD FRONTIER The ideal and myth of the frontier is central to the psyche of America. Frontiersmen were bold and brave, self-reliant and adventurous. Today’s Americans still aspire to emulate the more admirable attributes of their character, without, of course, facing the incredible hardships they endured. The seemingly endless Western frontier of the vast North American continent provided ample opportunity for freedom, independence, and initiative. It represented an irresistible lure to something greater, calling one to destiny and fortune. Even when the great Pacific Ocean was finally reached, the attraction of the Western frontier continued to speak to the spirit of adventure, offering an escape from the past, and the limited opportunities for fame and fortune in settled communities in the East. The European conquest of the Americas was not the first cultural interaction. There is evidence that Vikings explored the coasts long before, and in the early mists of history the continent was settled by Asian tribes that were indigenous by the time of the advent of the “discovery” of the New World. Frontier, in the geographical sense, finds meaning only in the presence of its opposite, civilization, or the known. At some point in the early history of humankind, it could be said that all the world was a frontier, beginning just beyond the circle of warmth around the campfire. But the spiritual frontier that Buddha discovered had nothing to do with the geography of northern India, where he lived.

The Original Frontier One night, the young prince sat down under a tree, the story goes, resolved to resolve the conundrum of suffering existence, or die trying. He did not die physically, fortunately for humanity. However, what had been known as Siddhartha Gautama did cease to exist. The self, with its long list of unique human traits, no longer obtained. What arose from that long dark night of meditation was awake—it was buddha, liberated from his prior, limiting attributes. Buddha saw into the true condition of existence, the built-in limitations of existence in this physical universe. While most seekers sought ways to ignore, or transcend, the disturbing attributes of impermanence, imperfection, and insubstantiality, his awakening brought them front and center, as a sober assessment of reality. His last resort was to sit upright in meditation, a direct way of confronting the unpleasant and, indeed, life-threatening aspects of existence. It was a desperate, but natural response to the problem of inexorable change. Through change consume change, as one old saying has it. Buddha and his followers confronted inexorable change head-on, embracing dukkha as the absolute and universal Way. They rejected the received wisdom of their culture, and discovered a new world, one that is ancient, actually. It was there to be explored, in the midst of everyday life. Buddha entered the real world that all human beings, indeed all sentient beings, inhabit, though most are unaware of it. He woke up completely; but only to what already was, and is. In that awakening, there is no tangible change in anything, other than our awareness. In other words, everything changed, permanently. When Siddhartha Gautama sat in meditation one evening 2500 years ago, he entered the original frontier, and came to the end of spiritual evolution. He had become Buddha, the “fully awakened one,” his true self; and thus came to, and declared, for him, the end of becoming. His awakening, and ours, is comprised of direct experience, of the nature and meaning of existence itself, as well as our place in it.

PRESENT AS REALITY The second section, PRESENT, introduces Zen into the context of the conflict, as an alternative middle way, against the opposite poles of Science at one end of the spectrum, Christianity at the other. This sets the stage for delving more deeply into specifics: what Zen is, and what it is not; how it works, and the benefits of practicing its meditation, zazen, which is distinctly different from other forms of meditation. This section sets the tone and provides needed background for the last section, which is futuristic, speculating about larger implications of Zen for society. The most important thing about one’s background, a witty friend once remarked, is that it is different from one’s foreground. The good news is that we all have the ability to change. The bad news is that it takes a lot of hard work.

THE NEW FRONTIER The frontier still attracts. The promise of the promised land still lures, just over the next horizon. Today, however, the horizons of geography are clearly more limited than they seemed just a few centuries ago. Humankind’s great success story, in exploring and occupying nearly every inhabitable corner of the globe, has come back to bite. The frontiers of the physical planet, as well as its resources, are clearly finite, and shrinking. Today’s unexplored physical frontiers are those of the wide and deep oceans, and the “final frontier” of outer space. There are also near-infinite, non-geographic, possibilities; frontiers of technology, both mechanical and biological. The revolution that brought about the digital age, while undeniably and irreversibly altering the world community in ways yet to be fully realized, is said by some to have merely set the stage for the big one. New and sometimes scary vistas are opening up, in the realm of genetic engineering. This may be the final bottle to which the genie cannot be returned, a Pandora’s box of tragic consequence. Or it may be the key to humankind’s wildest dreams of unprecedented health and happiness, and unimaginable longevity. A frontier has a boundary with the familiar territory that we presently occupy. There is a distinct jumping-off place, and upon first embarking upon the alien landscape, for some distance and time, turning back is still an option. But at a far enough remove, a point of no return is reached, where turning back is as dangerous as continuing on one’s journey. Like the swimmer reaching the halfway mark to the other shore, or an aerial acrobat releasing the grip on one trapeze in order to grasp another. There is a decision point, one of irreversible intent. Frontier, in the spiritual sense, has no such limitations as geography imposes, nor even those of space and time. This is why we call it the original frontier. It is not limited to time or place. It is here and now—ready, willing and able to meet and greet us. This is the point of no return that Zen reaches, the frontier of existence itself. Abandoning our comfort zone of conceptual reality, Zen practitioners enter the same frontier as that discovered by the historical Buddha, and explored by the ancestral lineage. It has not gone anywhere. There is no where for it to go. It is completely present where you are. The frontier that Buddha entered 2500 years ago is still with us, today. It is beckoning, just around the corner, glimpsed from time to time from the corner of the eye. It is so close, so immediate and intimate, that it seems invisible, like snow on silver, as mentioned in the ancient Chinese Zen poem, Precious Mirror Samadhi, “A silver bowl filled with snow—a heron hidden in the moon; taken as similar they are not the same…” The distinction between the world of enlightenment, and the ordinary world of everyday life, is so subtle as to be virtually indistinguishable, so slight that it is easily overlooked. Like the water to a fish, it is too close to be an object of perception. But awakening to it changes perception itself. AWAKENING TO REALITY In the intervening millennia since Buddha’s advent, many attempts have been made to clarify the meaning of his spiritual awakening, beginning with the spoken teachings of Buddha himself. Over the centuries, competing worldviews and religious belief systems, such as the Abrahamic lineages of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, arose to compete with each other, and those Dharmic and Taoic systems that preceded Buddhism, such as Hinduism, Confucianism and Taoism. Unfortunately, some interpret the competition to be real: for survival; for the salvation of souls; and even for world domination. The competition has been heating up a lot, lately. While Buddhism does not compete—does not proselytize—the message of Buddha’s discovery to those living today is summed up in the expression, Do thou likewise. Any and all people, at any time and any place, can enter this original frontier, no matter their faith. This is the central message and spiritual legacy of Buddhism, the “wish-fulfilling Mani jewel” that is said to be hidden on our own person, all unknown to the bearer. Its radiance is revealed through the third eye of meditation. Most of the problems faced by individuals and international society today stem from the same source as in the history of Buddhism’s countries of origin. That source is usually identified as ignorance. Ignorance, in particular, of the non-existent nature of the self, but also, more specifically, ignorance of Buddhism’s Four Noble Truths. These truths diagnose the sickness of the world: the existence of suffering, inevitable change and resultant dissatisfaction; and its cause, craving or thirst; a prognosis as to the course the disease will take; and a prescription for its cure, through the practice of meditation and following the Eightfold Path in daily life. The horror stories that are the daily diet of news media throughout the ever-shrinking globe are outcomes of this ignorance, fed by belief systems that attempt to substitute a concept of reality for reality itself. Unfortunately, adherents of non-dharmic world religions are rarely open to new viewpoints of Buddhism, or meditation of the Zen kind; and usually close-minded, regarding anything that may contradict their beliefs. Scientists seem a bit more open-minded, as is to be expected. That even those non-aligned seekers, who are exposed to these teachings, still choose to ignore them; is a symptom of how deeply ingrained ignorance is, piling willful ignorance on top of the natural ignorance of simply not-knowing. Now it is timely, urgent as well as important, that the message of Buddhism and Zen, in its most simple and elegant form, zazen, be communicated to as many people as possible. The times, causes and conditions under which we live today, have amplified, to a frightening degree, the amount of damage a single, misguided individual, or a small group, can inflict upon large numbers of other people. According to Buddhism, these horrific attempts at exacting vengeance, and the endless cycle of revenge they fuel, do nothing to balance out the karmic consequences of the past. In fact, they exacerbate them, resulting in the rebirth of those who are killed, not an escape to a promised heavenly reward. They certainly do nothing to bring about the much-anticipated apocalypse, only a pathetic, wishful caricature of that fatal fantasy. Out of the machinations of the ignorant mind, heaven or hell are fabricated, right here on earth. People cause all the troubles of the world, through their ignorance, both willful and innocent, of this truth. Buddhism claims to transmit the truth that liberates. But even a bodhisattva’s life of harmony and compassion, devoted to the mitigation of the suffering of others, is no guarantee of eternal happiness in paradise. Nor, for that matter, is anyone condemned to eternal suffering in hell, according to this most compassionate of teachings. All are capable of redemption, but not by prayer alone. Again, this present existence is, itself, rebirth. This human body is the pivotal turning point, necessary to the ability to awaken fully, and as such is the fruit of many lives. Zen’s approach to resolving the fundamental issue of ignorance and awakening is straightforward, and irreducibly simple. We simply sit, very still, for very long periods of time. That is, relatively still, for relatively long periods. How do we find the time? As we explore the original frontier of Zen, the dimensions of space and time change. Measured time is seen for what it is, a concept, an invention. We enter into real, emergent time, continuously unfolding in the present, eternal moment. It actually takes no time at all. This PRESENT section of the book attempts to transmit this highest truth of Buddhism, this present reality, with its inescapable suffering; and what may be done to fully understand it. It is hoped that all of us will begin to apply its method of meditation in our everyday life.

FUTURE AS POTENTIAL The third section, FUTURE, entertains the possibility of moving toward resolution of the imaginary conflict between spirituality and science. This is to be done by bringing forth a rational approach to religion, and a spiritual model of science. It would necessitate recognizing the non-duality of intelligence and evolution. It is our belief, in the colloquial sense, that the citizens of the West, perhaps the US in particular, are reaching a point of spiritual maturity; or, better, coming out of a period of extended adolescence. The unusually high attention to religion is, optimistically, a symptom of that process. That people turn, in tough times, to their traditional sources of religious inspiration is to be expected. That they are no longer satisfied with the prescriptive message of those institutions is also predictable. And that they would turn to other sources offering a more direct spiritual approach, exemplified by Zen, is a slam-dunk. The struggle for hegemony over the curriculum taught in schools, and therefore the minds of the next generation, may go either way, or one of several. Whichever way it goes, the fundamental truths of Buddhism—the inevitability of aging, sickness, decay and death—are not likely to be contravened. We can, of course, anticipate a continuing increase in overall life expectancy; victories of medical science over some, most, or even all, of the diseases afflicting humankind and sentient beings; greater prediction of natural disasters, and mitigation of their undesirable effects on civilization; and any number of future scenarios, beggaring the imagination. But the basic issues of existence in an imperfect world will persist. This is why the findings of Buddhism are always—and increasingly—relevant, timely and urgent. If cooler heads prevail, we may yet be witness to the birth of the long-wished-for and fabled Utopia. Peace on Earth—if not heaven—is surely possible, with or without a second coming. But only if we are willing to be realistic about it, and take up the work of personal transformation.

ZEN IS FOR YOU The basic purpose of this text is to persuade you, the reader, that Zen is for everyone, including and especially, you, the reader. Zen is not something arcane, alien and foreign to your own experience. It can be practiced anywhere, any time, and by anyone willing to make the necessary effort. It does not require traveling to foreign lands, purchasing expensive equipment, or subscribing to a belief system. Its reliance on meditation reduces the reliance on a personal teacher, often characteristic of other systems. This last aspect, the teacher-student partnership. makes it possible to sustain lifelong training relationships, in the context of the widespread geography, and mobile lifestyle, of the average citizen of today’s Western civilizations. The future of Zen in the USA and the world at large is in lay practice, where the greatest benefit accrues to the greatest number. Zen’s meditation practice is geometrically expandable, from the personal meditation of single individuals in their homes, to the communal practice of tens, hundreds, even thousands, sitting together in a group. The amount of space required increases, but the simplicity of the meditation, and its orderly conduct, does not require a commensurate layering in complexity, as the group increases in size. It is scalable, as they say. Zen may not claim to be the only way out of this quagmire, but it is one that works. No one escapes suffering in this life, and Buddhism does not represent a misguided attempt to do so. Sitting in meditation is confronting suffering directly, in the most honest and humble way available. In this it is akin to prayer. Owing to the virtually unlimited capacity of the human mind to adapt and change, the necessary accommodation to the limitations, the causes and conditions, of reality can come about, if one simply sits still enough, for long enough. In this sense, Zen is guaranteed. But it is not instant. Along the way there are many bumps in the road, potholes and pitfalls, blind alleys, cul-de-sacs and dead ends, to extend the metaphor. These are primarily the product of our own self-directed, self-defeating, craving and clinging mind. The barriers are created by the monkey mind. But they cannot withstand the onslaught of sustained meditation. Without the guidance of an experienced teacher, one who has come to these passes, and transcended them on his or her own path, it is difficult to avoid becoming stuck, for long periods of time, even an entire lifetime. But finding the right teacher to partner with may not be easy. In Buddhism, we teach each other, so the benefits of the relationship go both ways. It is a two- way street, in which the efforts of the teacher should help to guide the student. But the efforts of the student also inform the teacher. Like a pre-hatchling chick, pecking on the inside of its eggshell, and the mother hen pecking on the outside, both teacher and student are working on the stubborn shell of ego that separates them. Once the shell cracks, both chick and hen, student and teacher, are on the same side of the shell. Both are in the same reality, in which there is no longer inside and outside. It is my firm hope that the reader of this book will seek out and find a true teacher of Zen, one who gets out of the way, who helps break through the hard shell of ignorance into the bright light of insight, through meditation and practice together. Personal salvation, in the midst of life, and by extension, the peace of this world, depend upon it. APPENDIX

SOTO ZEN LITURGY Selected teachings from the history of Buddhism and Zen are chanted or recited as daily and weekly liturgy, in Zen centers and monasteries. Here we will look at a few of the ones commonly used. The chanting form reflects the early oral transmission of teachings for the first four centuries or so, before they were written down. Translations into English naturally exist in multiple versions, and the protocol varies widely by location.

Repentance and Refuges Before the sutra and other verses are chanted, incense is dedicated followed by bows to the Three Treasures, then all join in chanting the Repentance and Refuges verses. The Repentance is chanted three times, the Three Refuges one time:

All my past and harmful karma born from beginningless greed hate and delusion through body speech and mind I now fully avow

I take refuge in Buddha…I take refuge in Dharma…I take refuge in Sangha I take refuge in Buddha the fully awakened one I take refuge in Dharma the compassionate teaching I take refuge in Sangha the harmonious community I have completely taken refuge in Buddha I have completely taken refuge in Dharma I have completely taken refuge in Sangha Repentance recognizes that past actions affect the present through the principle of karma; that karma is one with this birth, and takes action through the body and mouth as well as the mind. In other words, karmic consciousness comes with the territory of the present, as a consequence of the past. This is the bad news. The good news is that action taken in the present can mitigate, or change, the consequences of the future. However, we cannot repent with the objective of avoiding consequences; this desire is, itself, karmic. Taking refuge in the Three Treasures concedes that in spite of our best efforts to face up to the consequences of past actions, and to follow the Precepts in daily life, it is difficult to impossible, to do so on our own. Refuge does not mean hiding from consequences, but returning to whence we originally came. We return to buddha, our original nature; to dharma, the truth of our situation; and the sangha, the community of others who are also taking refuge.

Great Heart of Wisdom Sutra The most commonly and frequently chanted is the Heart of Great Wisdom Sutra (J. Maka Hannya Haramita Shingyo), a digest, a condensed version of the Perfection of Wisdom Sutra (Prajna Paramita). It is presented below in a consensus English translation chanted regularly by the clergy and congregation, accompanied by drums and gongs:

Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva when deeply practicing prajna paramita clearly saw that all five aggregates are empty and thus relieved all suffering

Shariputra form does not differ from emptiness emptiness does not differ from form form itself is emptiness emptiness itself form Sensations perceptions formations and consciousness are also like this

Shariputra all dharmas are marked by emptiness they neither arise nor cease…are neither defiled nor pure neither increase nor decrease

Therefore given emptiness there is no form no sensation no perception no formation no consciousness no eyes no ears no nose no tongue no body no mind no sight no sound no smell no taste no touch no object of mind no realm of sight…no realm of mind consciousness there is neither ignorance nor extinction of ignorance neither old age and death nor extinction of old age and death no suffering…no cause…no cessation…no path…no knowledge and no attainment

With nothing to attain a bodhisattva relies on prajna paramita and thus the mind is without hindrance…without hindrance there is no fear far be-yond all inverted views one realizes nirvana

All buddhas of past present and future rely on prajna paramita and thereby attain unsurpassed complete perfect enlightenment

Therefore know the prajna paramita as the great miraculous mantra the great bright mantra… the supreme mantra… the incomparable mantra which removes all suffering and is true not false

Therefore we proclaim the prajna paramita mantra…the mantra that says Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha

Here, Avalokiteshvara is the Bodhisattva of Compassion, and Shariputra is one of the ten main disciples of Shakyamuni Buddha. This condensed summary, merciful for its brevity, testifies to emptiness (shunyatta) to be found in meditation, as the essence of Form and the other Skandhas, as well as of the Six Senses. It also points out that the teachings, such as the First Sermon, are also empty (e.g. no path) in the sense of being provisional, not reified as scripture. This revision does not refute original teachings, but qualifies them. Buddha taught in different ways, attuned to the levels of understanding of his audience. Over the last 50 years of his life, his practice and understanding deepened, as did that of his followers. Thus, the later teachings, which are more counter-intuitive, may seem to contradict the earlier ones, from a logical perspective. But his root teaching is trans-logical, inconceivable, as he defined it. It has to be experienced to be known.

Transfer of Merit A verse transferring merit often follows the chanting of sutras or other verses in service. This is not the same as praying for others, with an expectation that the action has a mystical power to effect spooky action at a distance (Einstein’s phrase describing the theory of quantum entanglement). It may simply indicate that the practitioners are not so deluded as to believe that they themselves actually accrue merit through the chanting. A typical translation of the Universal Transfer of Merit (there are others more specific to individuals or groups):

May this merit extend universally to all so that we together with all beings realize the buddha way All buddhas throughout space and time all honored ones… bodhisattvas…mahasattvas Wisdom beyond wisdom…maha prajna paramita

The concept of merit in Zen merits some explanation. In one ceremony, it speaks of the source of merit, the one to whom it is given and the one giving it as immaculate. We may take this to mean that what merit there is, is already inherent in existence, and that the giver and receiver, as well as any merit, are not separate from the beginning. The line in the Heart Sutra “all dharmas…neither increase nor decrease,” points to this same notion. Our activities in following Zen practices, Precepts and other teachings do not really change the reality at all, in terms of gaining merit, or eliminating delusion. It is a zero-sum game, like the finite universe. Nothing can actually be added or taken away. But what can change is our awareness. We can wake up to the merit already inherent in existence, the merit of being born as a human being. This is the only way that merit can be accumulated. The treasure we find in Zen is one that we have had all along. DAILY PRACTICE VERSES There are verses that mark events in daily practice at Zen centers and monasteries, such as formal verses for opening and closing the dharma, before and after a formal talk, and before and during meals. These are parts of the protocols that Master Dogen developed at Eiheiji Monastery in 13th century Japan, and that have been handed down, relatively intact, ever since. The idea is that there is really nothing in daily life, that is not a part of Soto Zen practice. Many lay followers of Zen adopt these practices in their daily lives at home, as well as at the Zen center. The degree of devotion that a follower of Zen may or may not exercise, is entirely up to the individual.

Dharma Opening Verse These verses, or something similar, are chanted in many practice places accompanied by varying degrees of formality, such as entering and exiting, bowing, ringing bells, bringing forth the teacher’s podium, et cetera:

The unsurpassed profound and wondrous dharma is rarely met with even in a hundred thousand million kalpas Now we can see and hear it accept and maintain it May we unfold the meaning of the Tathagata’s truth

The term unsurpassed is repeatedly used to describe Buddhist teachings. However, it is not meant in the comparative sense, setting up competition with other teachings or beliefs. It is just that the buddhadharma is so broad and deep, that everything is subsumed within it. Profound means it is personally significant, not just intellectually compelling. Wondrous speaks to the nature of the Buddhist truth. It is not a smug answer or a creed, but a deeper mystery. A kalpa is a great long time, an epoch, and 100,000,000,000 or so of them, is the frequency with which this kind of truth is actually grasped over time. Met with does not simply mean encountered; people have been exposed to it for 2500 years, but not many got it during that time. That now we can see and hear it is considered a great and rare opportunity, dependent upon birth as a human, and so not to be frittered away. To accept is the challenge to the Western mindset, and to maintain it the charge to all Zen followers, especially transmitted teachers. We are entrusted with the dharma. Unfold means that it is like a rare blossom, whose beauty is revealed one petal at a time. Tathagata is one of ten honorific titles used to refer to Buddha during his lifetime. It means something like the thus-come one, one who apprehends suchness, or truth.

Dharma Closing Verse Once the talk is over, bells signal the formal closing of the session, followed by chanting the Four Great Vows, the first being the vow of Bodhisattvas to help all others before going to the other shore (nirvana) themselves:

Beings are numberless…I vow to free them Delusions are inexhaustible…I vow to end them Dharma gates are boundless…I vow to enter them The buddha way is unsurpassable…I vow to realize it

Another translation:

However innumerable all beings are…I vow to save them all However inexhaustible my delusions are…I vow to extinguish them all However immeasurable the dharma teachings are…I vow to master them all However endless the great way is…I vow to follow it completely

The first vow simultaneously commits to the salvation of all, while admitting to the impossibility of it. Where does one start? How long is it going to take? Free or save them from what? These vows, like the Precepts, cannot be understood on a simplistic, literal level. Fortunately for those of us who tend to get over-committed. One old teacher commented that the Bodhisattva (who interprets the vow this way) is still fettered by the idea that there are beings to be saved. All beings are enlightened simultaneously with you. So the place to begin is directly in front of our face. The notion of getting extinguishing delusions carries a similar, dualistic gotcha. The central delusion, is that there are such things as delusions. Ending or extinguishing them cannot be done, if they are real. They will end or exhaust themselves, if we develop the requisite degree, and cogent application of, patience. Similarly, we cannot enter dharma gates as an act of will, or master true dharma as a subject we can study intellectually, in order to understand it. Dharma gates will open of themselves—dharma will master us—if we can give up our need to understand, the compulsion to master it. The buddha way is not only unsurpassable, but endless; which throws cold water on the idea that we can master it, find it outside of delusion, or actually help anyone else with it. If it had an end point, those things might be possible. But each ending is a beginning. The dharma is reborn continuously, moment by moment, endlessly.

Meal Verse These verses, or some variation thereof, are usually chanted before, during, and after the meal, depending on the degree of formality. Formal monastic meal service (J. oryoki) is usually done for breakfast and the midday meal. Supper is not usually considered a meal, but may be a simple buffet of leftovers or snacks.

We reflect on the efforts that brought us this food and consider how it comes to us We reflect on our virtue and practice and whether we are worthy of this offering We regard greed as the obstacle to freedom of mind We regard this meal as medicine to sustain our life For the sake of enlightenment we now receive this food

First this is for the Three Treasures Next for the four benefactors Finally for the beings in the six realms May all be equally nourished

The first portion is to end all evil The second is to cultivate every good The third is to free all beings May everyone realize the buddha way

There are more extensive versions, and other stanzas. e.g. about washing our bowls, but this gives the gist of making the meal a devotional sacrament. After all, we are feeding the living buddha. Reflecting on the efforts expands the community to include the many beings that are involved in the production and delivery of the meal, including most crucially the beings, animal and vegetable, who themselves will be eaten. If we are not worthy, we should not eat. The phrase A day without work is a day without eating is usually attributed to the leaders at Plymouth colony, during the difficult early days of the European settlement of North America; but it is predated by centuries by the utterance of an old Zen master. In today’s environment of obesity as epidemic, it is a stretch to associate greed with eating, rather than with shenanigans of high finance. In simpler times, people had simpler problems, more humble and modest expectations, and, consequently, infractions. Within a Zen monastic environment, nobody owned much of anything of a material nature, so greed would tend to manifest around such issues as how much rice you consume. Even such a primitive and, by modern standards, naively innocent craving, however, is the beginning of bondage to bodily needs, leading inexorably to loss of freedom, loss of the buddha mind. The meal is medicine to sustain our life (the evening meal is called a medicine bowl), and the only reason to sustain life is for the sake of enlightenment. Longevity has no intrinsic value—in fact it may just be postponing the inevitable, meanwhile sustaining a worthless life—unless it gives us a better chance of waking up in this lifetime. The next stanza transfers the merit of the meal to: Three Treasures—the original nature, truth, and community—which comprise enlightenment nourished by the meal: the Four Benefactors— leaders, parents, teachers, and friends—who directly or indirectly benefit us; and all beings in the six realms, distributed throughout the chiliocosm, from a couple of hells to a couple of heavens, with human and other sentient beings occupying the two in between. In other words, may all beings be happy, and partake of this meal so that their various and sundry hungers are assuaged. Everybody is welcome to the potluck. The last verse reprises the Pure Precepts, the third rephrasing the Bodhisattva Vow, dedicating portions to each, and ending with a wish for the transcendence of all beings. A lot to digest.