Summary: The Way of Zen: The history and core principles of the Eastern philosophy of Zen by Alan W. Watts

• To delve deeper into the profound wisdom of Zen and discover how its principles can transform your perspective on life, continue reading “The Way of Zen” by Alan W. Watts. You’ll embark on a transformative journey of self-discovery and enlightenment.

The Way of Zen (1957) is a classic work that lays out the historical origins and core principles of Zen Buddhism. Our world is changing at breakneck speed, and it often seems that the old rules cease to apply as soon as we’ve gotten used to them. The Eastern philosophy of Zen can help us find the mental stillness and the joy in uncertainty we desperately need.

Genres

Mindfulness, Happiness, Philosophy, Religion, Spirituality, Philosophy Movements, Spiritual Self-Help, Christian Self Help

Introduction: Unearth the history and principles behind an ancient practice.

At some point or another, pretty much every Westerner has used the word Zen in conversation. Perhaps a room a person is sitting in feels very Zen, or she’s going to spend a relaxing weekend trying to regain her Zen.

In the West, there’s a vague notion that Zen has something to do with calmness, tranquility, and peace. But how accurate is this understanding?

Westerners often have trouble wrapping their minds around the abstract ideas that make up the core of Zen thought, some of which seem paradoxical. But fortunately, writer and thinker Alan Watts is here to demystify the subject and unpack its paradoxes.

In the following summaries, you’ll get Watts’s take on the history of Zen, starting with its roots in Chinese Taoism. Then, you’ll look at some of the core principles of Zen. By the end, you might find yourself seeing the world just a little differently.

Along the way, you’ll discover

• what it means to know something;
• whether you are already the Buddha; and
• how you cause your own reality.

Chinese Taoist philosophy laid the original foundation for Zen Buddhism.

Do you know how to breathe? Sure, you feel as if you know how to breathe – after all, you’re doing it constantly. But if you had to explain the exact physiological processes that allow you to breathe, you might be quite lost.

What Westerners think of as knowledge is concrete and fact-based. Yet few people anywhere in the world would say that they don’t know how to breathe, see, or move their legs. So, in fact, what you know constitutes a multitude of things about whose precise workings you have no idea. As soon as you realize this, you’ll understand the concept of knowledge in Taoism, one of the major forebears of Zen Buddhism.

The key message here is: Chinese Taoist philosophy laid the original foundation for Zen Buddhism.

The earliest source of Taoist thought is an important book called the I Ching, or Book of Changes, written in China sometime between 3000 and 1200 BC. The book outlines a method of divination by which an oracle first “sees” a hexagram pattern somewhere in his environment. He then matches the hexagram’s characteristics to those in the I Ching to predict his subject’s future.

Now, you may not believe in making decisions based on an oracle’s prediction of your future. But is your method of decision-making any more rational? You may want to say yes. But how do you identify the exact point at which you’ve collected enough information to make a decision? Isn’t there always more information you could gather in order to make an even more “rational” decision?

To make a truly fact-based decision would take a very long time – so long that the time for action would have passed by the time you’d gathered all the data.

Our decisions ultimately come down to a feeling about which choice is right. Good decisions depend on good intuition – or, as a Taoist would say, being in the Tao. If you’re in the Tao, your mind is clear and your intuition is at its most effective.

Think about it this way: There’s no amount of work you can do to force the muscles in your tongue to taste more accurately. You just have to trust them to do their job. Similarly, you must be able to trust your mind.

Clear-mindedness, and trust in the mind’s natural abilities, would later become central to Zen. But before we get there, let’s look at the origins of Buddhism.

Buddhism was the overarching philosophy from which Zen grew.

According to Buddhist tradition, the Buddha sat under a tree one evening after seven years of meditation and ascetic living. He had been following all the correct practices to train his body, yet he still couldn’t find his true Self. So, eventually, he simply gave up and decided to eat some nourishing food beneath a towering tree.

While sitting under the tree, Buddha found a sudden clarity. He realized that as long as man continues to try to grasp what his own life is, he will fail. This aspect of Buddhism – the sudden awakening – eventually became a central aspect of Zen.

The key message here is: Buddhism was the overarching philosophy from which Zen grew.

While the Buddha lived in India sometime between the fifth and fourth centuries BC, the first Buddhist text, the Pali canon, wasn’t written until some 400 years later. Previously, Buddhism had existed only as an oral tradition. This makes it difficult to understand the views of Buddha himself, but we can still tease out the most important ideas.

Throughout all of Indian thought is the idea of God’s self-sacrifice, or atma-yajna. In giving birth to the world, God is destroyed, and fractured into many pieces. Each being contains an aspect of God, and our life’s purpose is eventually to reintegrate with the One.

So, in Buddhism, knowing yourself means knowing your original identity – God. To do that, you need to disentangle your self from all forms of identification. You’re not your body, your thoughts, or your feelings. And you’re not your role, like mother or doctor.

Notice that Buddhism places a heavy emphasis on negative knowledge – that is, knowing what you aren’t as opposed to what you are. This can be baffling to Westerners, who tend to expect concrete definitions.

But the world isn’t always as concrete as we’d like it to be. For instance, you can state that the First World War began on August 4, 1914. But did it really? A historian can reveal causes for the war from long before its official start date.

So, we can see that divisions of events, things, and facts are created by arbitrary human description – not by reality itself. An Indian Buddhist would call these artificial divisions maya, or illusion. And the goal of our lives should be to liberate ourselves from these illusions.

Mahayana Buddhism offered a resolution to the psychological conundrums in traditional Buddhism.

When curious people asked the Buddha questions about the nature of the self and the origin of the universe, he told them such questions were irrelevant. Asking them wouldn’t lead to liberation.

But some Buddhists – those who would become the Mahayana – were unwilling to take no for an answer. Mahayana Buddhists still sought liberation and weren’t aiming to construct a completely new philosophical system. But they were highly interested in their own psychology. This difference between Mahayana Buddhism and traditional Buddhism was key to the later Zen tradition.

The key message here is: Mahayana Buddhism offered a resolution to the psychological conundrums in traditional Buddhism.

Mahayana Buddhism broke away from traditional Buddhism somewhere between 100 and 300 BC. In some ways, Mahayana was a response to those looking for an easier path to enlightenment – one that they could attain in this life rather than after many lives. Mahayana wanted enlightenment to be accessible to everyone.

While accessible, the path to enlightenment in Mahayana is still anything but easy. To understand Mahayana beliefs, you’ll need to follow some tough logic, so buckle up.

First, you must realize that attempting to grasp reality is impossible.

If grasping reality itself is impossible, how then can you possibly hope to grasp enlightenment? It would be absurd to view enlightenment as some thing to be obtained.

And in the same way, since reality is illusory, your ego must also be an illusion. This ultimately means that you cannot attain enlightenment because the idea of you is not real.

So, now we’ve gotten to the crux of the argument. If enlightenment is not an object that can be attained, and if no individual entities exist, then we must already be in a state of enlightenment! To seek enlightenment would be to seek something we’d never lost.

You might be thinking – okay, simple, so I should stop trying to reach enlightenment. But you’ve caught yourself in a double-bind. By trying not to try, you’re still trying. You’re still motivated by your desire to reach enlightenment, whether it’s through grasping or not grasping.

To truly follow the Mahayana, you have to free yourself from the motivation to attain enlightenment. You can’t possibly desire the real enlightenment, because it’s impossible to know what that enlightenment is. And by seeking to become Buddha, you’re denying that you’re already Buddha. This belief is central to Zen.

Zen originated in China with the work of a few insightful monks.

The story goes that the Indian monk Bodhidharma brought Zen to China in 520 AD. When he arrived, Bodhidharma entered the court of Buddhist emperor Wu of Liang. But, it’s said, Emperor Wu didn’t like Bodhidharma’s attitude or doctrine. So Bodhidharma withdrew to a monastery. There, he met monk Hui-k’o, who would eventually become the Second Patriarch of Zen in China.

While this origin story is generally told in the Zen School, its historical accuracy is highly suspect. Instead, we might find the true origins of Zen in the teachings of a young monk named Seng-chao, who lived in China around 400 AD.

The key message here is: Zen originated in China with the work of a few insightful monks.

A few of Seng-chao’s doctrines played a central role in the later development of Zen.

One of particular significance was his view on time and change. Westerners are used to seeing life as a kind of progression – they feel that day becomes night and winter becomes spring, for instance. But for Seng-chao, every moment stands on its own, with no relation to anything either before or after. Similarly, in Zen, there is no reality other than that of the present moment.

A few hundred years after Seng-chao there came another monk, Hui-neng. Hui-neng was said to be responsible for introducing the concept of chih-chih. This term signifies the demonstration of Zen through nonsymbolic actions or words.

To a person unfamiliar with Zen, chih-chih can sometimes seem a bit nutty. For instance, a Zen master might be asked a spiritual question about Buddhism. In response, the master makes a casual remark about the weather. These answers can’t be explained further – either you immediately understand the point being made, or you don’t.

For example, take the monk Chao-chao’s response to a question about the spirit: “This morning it’s windy again.”

So what exactly is the purpose of this unusual question-and-answer format? Well, remember that whatever the Zen master says or does is thought to be an expression of his Buddha nature. Like everything else on earth, his words and actions appear spontaneously from nothing, without forethought.

Upon his death, Hui-neng passed his philosophy on to five disciples. The teachings of two of these disciples still live on today as the two principal schools of Zen in Japan.

Zen helps us to disintegrate the illusions our minds have created.

For many people, the ultimate goal in life is simple: to be happy. But what actually happens after you attain that happiness?

In Zen philosophy, the pursuit of happiness is considered absurd. It’s actually the product of a false premise: that it’s possible to experience only the good, with none of the bad.

The key message here is: Zen helps us to disintegrate the illusions our minds have created.

You might compare the pursuit of happiness to turning from left to right on a hard bed. You’re uncomfortable on the right side, so you turn to the left. That feels good at first, but then, the left starts to feel exactly like the right. In fact, the only reason you can understand the feeling of comfort is because you first understood discomfort.

So, discomfort is not only inevitable, but simply another aspect of comfort. This might lead you to the belief that we have no free choice, that we’re resigned to whatever fate awaits us. But that idea is based on another false premise.

In Zen, it’s impossible to be a helpless victim of your circumstances. In fact, you and your circumstances are actually inseparable.

Picture a sweltering day in midsummer. You’re dripping with sweat. Zen would instruct you that you aren’t sweating because it’s hot outside. Rather, the sweating is the heat.

You can think about your mind and body through this same framework. Your mind-body can’t be given a set of circumstances. Instead, the circumstances exist because you possess a mind and body that can perceive them.

You might be inclined to call this perceiving entity – this mind and body of yours – your self. But the self is yet another illusion that Zen can help us shatter.

When asked to describe yourself, you might list several adjectives. Or maybe a few past experiences that seem to define who you are. But are any of these descriptors real in the truest sense of the word? In short, no.

Our minds are powerful, and they allow us to construct a symbolic version of our self that doesn’t actually exist. But this idea of our self is not tangibly connected to what our minds and bodies are experiencing right now.

Therefore, in Zen, the real you is simply the sum of all the things of which you are aware at this very moment.

In Zen, spontaneity and naturalness are key.

A major focus of Zen is naturalness, or not striving to “be” anything in particular. In a sense, Zen is about allowing yourself to be aimless – essentially, to do nothing.

To a Westerner, doing nothing might sound like a huge waste of time. But, in fact, it’s the natural state of most everything in the world. A cat doesn’t try to be anything other than a cat, and your ears don’t try to do anything other than hear. Zen tells us we should allow our minds to operate the same way: as spontaneously and naturally as possible.

The key message here is: In Zen, spontaneity and naturalness are key.

In Zen, whatever emotion you naturally express in response to a circumstance is valuable – and it’s valuable because of its naturalness.

Take the story of a Zen monk who burst into tears after hearing that a close relative of his had died. A student commented that it was unseemly for a monk to react this way. But the monk replied, “Don’t be stupid! I’m weeping because I want to weep.”

Our actions, of course, can still be right or wrong in the conventional moral sense. But in Zen, whatever we do, and whatever happens, is right in the sense that it’s natural.

It’s not just our actions that should be natural and spontaneous. It’s our words, too.

For example, when Zen master Yün-men was asked to name the ultimate secret of Buddhism, his response was, “Dumpling.”

Here, Yün-men’s mind acted completely on its own. And in the process, it revealed an underlying truth – one that an ordinary person might not understand, but that can only be expressed by the single word “dumpling.” This would never have happened if Yün-men’s mind had been muddled by affectation.

Spontaneity also extends naturally to the Zen concept of satori, or sudden awakening.

Satori is less like total enlightenment and more like a burst of insight. It can take the form of a great realization – perhaps something you suddenly understand about the deepest principles of Buddhism. But you can also experience less-monumental instances of satori, like the sudden remembrance of a long-forgotten name.

With all of the emphasis on spontaneity, you might conclude that Zen encourages giving in to impulse. But this is far from the case. Instead, Zen is about eliminating mental blocks, allowing your mind to operate in its freest, most natural state.

Meditation should be about sitting and observing the world, exactly as it is.

If you currently practice meditation, what is your goal when you sit in silence? Perhaps to purify or clear your mind, or to achieve some sort of understanding that remains elusive.

For Zen, all goals associated with meditation are misguided. In Buddhism and Taoism, for instance, the goal of sitting meditation is to empty the consciousness and purify the mind. But in Zen, our nature is already pure – it’s already Buddha. And if you strive to purify it, you’re actually contaminating it with your desire.

The key message here is: Meditation should be about sitting and observing the world, exactly as it is.

Sitting meditation, or za-zen in Japanese, may not have had much significance for the original Zen thinkers. But in today’s Zen communities, it’s massively important.

In Zen, it’s essential to sit and observe the world in order to experience it truly. After all, does the world exist only when you think and do things within it? Of course not.

You can think of your mind as a muddy river. As you go about your life, your mind becomes muddied. But what happens to muddy water when it’s left alone? Eventually, the dirt and sediment sink to the bottom, and the waters are left clear. In the same way, when you meditate, your mind is left alone to become clear.

But practicing za-zen doesn’t mean sitting and purposely trying to think about nothing. That would be counterproductive. It’s also not about concentrating on any one thing in particular, like your breathing. Instead, it’s simply a quiet awareness of whatever happens in the here and now. You and your external world are one, and you have no purpose in mind as you sit and observe.

For students in Zen schools, if there’s any goal to the practice of za-zen, it’s to be better able to answer the koan. These are difficult philosophical questions for which there are no formally published answers. As a student progresses, he is asked more and more difficult koan for which he must provide more and more creative answers.

For instance, a Zen student might be asked, “Take the four divisions of Tokyo out of your sleeve.” This koan may be solved by taking out a paper handkerchief and dividing it into four.

To answer the koan, a student’s mind must be clear and sharp – a state that za-zen helps it achieve.

Zen art uses emptiness to make a powerful impact.

There is a Zen expression that states that “one showing is worth a hundred sayings.” And there is perhaps no better way to show an idea than through art.

The major theme of all Zen art, whether in painting or poetry, is the aimless life. What Westerners might call an empty or meaningless existence is actually, in Zen, one of boundless freedom. Zen art evokes that sense of joy in freedom by using the evocative power of empty space.

The key message here is: Zen art uses emptiness to make a powerful impact.

Sumi-e is a calligraphic style of painting that strongly expresses the feeling of Zen. Sumi paintings are done in black ink only, and the ink’s tone is varied by the amount of water with which it’s mixed. Usually, only one small part of the canvas is painted, while the rest may only be treated with a gentle ink wash. This technique allows the empty space in the canvas to come alive, appearing to be shrouded in gentle mist.

The emptiness in sumi paintings mirrors the Zen principle of spontaneity. The small, painted part of the picture appears to arise from nothing.

In a similar way, Zen poetry shows a great deal while saying little.

At some point, you’ve probably encountered a haiku, a short, three-line poem usually with nature as its subject. But you may not have known that haiku are products of Zen thought.

A bad haiku is clunky and tries too hard to say something meaningful. But a good haiku throws a stone into the still waters of a listener’s mind. It says just enough to be evocative, while letting the listener’s mind do most of the interpretive heavy lifting.

Aside from painting and poetry, Zen thought permeates architecture, especially in the garden. In a Zen garden, you should feel the atmosphere of nature without being overwhelmed by ornamentation. Even in a garden without any water features, your mind should be able to conjure the soft lull of a mountain stream.

Whether in painting, poetry, or architecture, the way of Zen is at work. By observing the momentariness and spontaneity of a haiku or sumi painting, we’re brought face to face with the present moment. Through it, we learn to liberate ourselves from time, and to comprehend the extraordinary fact that the only reality is in the present moment.

Final Summary

The key message in these summaries:

Zen Buddhism was shaped by the philosophies of Taoism and Mahayana Buddhism. Eventually, Zen grew into a way of life in its own right, with a primary focus on naturalness, spontaneity, and aimlessness. With an understanding of Zen, you can free yourself from the delusions and false premises that keep you from experiencing true reality – that is, the present moment.

Actionable advice: Breathe freely.

Zen is primarily a philosophy of mind. But if there’s a physical aspect, it’s definitely in the breath. To breathe like a Zen monk, imagine your body being emptied of air by a giant lead ball sinking from your chest into your abdomen. Then, allow your next breath to flow in as a reflex action. But be careful – as in other aspects of Zen, you shouldn’t strive too hard to “master” this technique! Instead, try to watch your breath come and go, and let it happen naturally.

About the author

Alan W. Watts, who held both a master’s degree in theology and a doctorate of divinity, is best remembered as an interpreter of Zen Buddhism in particular, and of Indian and Chinese philosophy in general. Standing apart, however, from sectarian membership, he has earned the reputation of being one of the most original and “unrutted” philosophers of the twentieth century. Watts was the author of some twenty books on the philosophy and psychology of religion that have been published in many languages throughout the world, including the bestselling The Way of Zen. An avid lecturer, Watts appeared regularly on the radio and hosted the popular television series, Eastern Wisdom and Modern Life, in the 1960s. He died in 1973.

Table of Contents

Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
List of Illustrations
Preface
The Pronunciation of Chinese Words
Part One: BACKGROUND AND HISTORY
1 The Philosophy of the Tao
2 The Origins of Buddhism
3 Mahayana Buddhism
4 The Rise and Development of Zen
Part Two: PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE
1 “Empty and Marvelous”
2 “Sitting Quietly, Doing Nothing”
3 Za-zen and the Koan
4 Zen in the Arts
Bibliography
Chinese Notes
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Bodhidharma. By Hakuin Zenji (1683–1768).
Two views of the rock and sand garden at Ryoanji, Kyoto.
Bodhidharma and Hui-k’e. By Sesshu (1420–1506).
Haboku Landscape. By Sesshu (1420–1506).

Review

“The Way of Zen” by Alan W. Watts is a classic exploration of the history and core principles of Zen Buddhism, offering a profound understanding of this Eastern philosophy. Watts delves into the origins, development, and essence of Zen, making it accessible to readers with or without prior knowledge of the subject.

The book begins by tracing the historical roots of Zen, starting with its evolution from Indian Buddhism to its flourishing in China and Japan. Watts provides a detailed account of the key figures and moments in Zen’s development, including Bodhidharma and the creation of the Zen monastic tradition. He shows how Zen uniquely blends Indian Mahayana Buddhism with Taoist principles, resulting in a distinctive and direct approach to spiritual awakening.

Watts elucidates the core principles of Zen, emphasizing the importance of direct experience and immediate realization. He explores the concept of “satori,” the sudden enlightenment experience, and how it is central to Zen practice. The book delves into meditation, koans (paradoxical riddles used for contemplation), and the significance of mindfulness in Zen.

In his exploration, Watts highlights the paradoxical nature of Zen, which embraces the idea of “non-attainment” and the dissolution of dualistic thinking. He discusses the relationship between the individual and the cosmos, emphasizing the interconnectedness and impermanence of all things.

Alan W. Watts’ “The Way of Zen” is an enlightening and accessible guide to the complex philosophy of Zen. Watts’ writing is clear and engaging, making this book suitable for both newcomers and those well-versed in Zen practice. His ability to distill the intricate principles of Zen into comprehensible concepts is commendable.

The historical context provided in the book is invaluable, as it gives readers a deep appreciation for the development of Zen and its evolution through time. Watts’ interpretation of Zen’s paradoxical nature is thought-provoking and encourages readers to contemplate the profound mysteries of existence. He doesn’t just describe Zen; he allows the reader to experience it through his words.

Watts’ “The Way of Zen” is a timeless work that continues to inspire and guide individuals in their spiritual journeys. It’s a must-read for anyone interested in Eastern philosophy, meditation, or the quest for a deeper understanding of the self and the universe.

In conclusion, “The Way of Zen” by Alan W. Watts is an illuminating exploration of Zen Buddhism that is accessible and thought-provoking, providing valuable insights into the philosophy’s history and core principles.