What is Zen?

by THOMAS DICKINSON
published Sept. 2

Just out of curiosity I went to hear a Zen Master speak. It was 1982 and I was a graduate student in music. He came, as he usually did every few months, to give a talk at the university’s chapel.

It was Zen Master Seung Sahn, a Korean Zen Master, whose first students became my Zen teachers, and whose practice style is the one we follow here at Big River Zen Practice Group in the Powderhorn neighborhood. He’d come to the U.S. eleven years before and was based in Rhode Island. Within the first few years he had established four Zen Centers in the surrounding area, and one in my town, New Haven, Conn. I’d been aware of the New Haven Zen Center for a while since it was located near the university, on a street filled with student apartments.

That first talk did not make a very good impression. All those people in gray robes, tea that tasted like burnt grain and the talk was given by a Zen student, not the Zen Master himself! It didn’t sound well planned, just off-the-cuff, and wasn’t very compelling. After the student finished, the Zen Master said, “Any questions?” and proceeded to answer over-broad ones with confusing, opaque answers in thickly accented English that was hard to understand. Too odd, too uppity, and just not a fit for me. That’s what I thought.

But there was a second time. Several months later, my college roommate was visiting and I thought, being a philosophy major and a wannabe hippie, he might like to hear a Zen Master. This time, when one of the audience members asked a question about her life and situation, it struck home. Actually, I don’t remember the question, but I remember the answer. Zen Master Seung Sahn said, “That’s a good question, but don’t you think it would be more helpful to look into where that question comes from?” She said yes. So he asked, “What are you?”

That’s when I realized he was also addressing my pressing question of the time. I had been struck by the absurdity of being a classical pianist playing music 150 years old for small audiences of people who mostly thought this music was either beyond them or snobby or irrelevant, or all three at once—what was the point? Now I saw that there was an inquiry that came before mine, looking into the source of my question: What Am I?

So the woman began to answer the question. “I’m a student.”
Zen Master Seung Sahn said, “Yes, that is your job at the moment, but is it the complete answer? What is the complete answer?”

She continued with “I’m a woman, I’m a daughter, I’m a wife and mother.”
Each time Zen Master Seung Sahn asked her if she thought these answers were complete, even when considered together. She had to say no, they weren’t. So he asked again, “What are you?”

And she finally said, “I don’t know!”

And Zen Master Seung Sahn, with a big grin, said, “Correct!! ‘What am I?’ DON’T KNOW!”

He said to keep that question and keep that Don’t Know. He said that Zen inquiry, and Zen practice is simply a way to go about answering it, and he suggested she come to the Zen Center to give it a try.

This was very exciting—a way to approach my big question. I did not understand his answer, “Don’t Know”; in fact, I didn’t understand why he was so happy that she was reduced to saying it. But I liked the question. Only after many years of Zen practice did I see that Zen teaching is not about providing answers, it is about asking questions—getting to the big question at the base of all questions, one we each formulate differently.

What I appreciated was that this was not presented as religion (I was already a Christian and did not feel any need to challenge that), but as a practice, something to do that would help with the big questions about my life. He said, “Come to the Zen Center. Give it a fair try. If it helps, keep it up. Try to find a good teacher; that will help a lot. But if Zen practice doesn’t help, try something else. The big question is most important—never lose that.”

So, the next week I started going to the Zen Center to sit in the mornings. It all felt a little too exotic for a while, but I was willing to overlook that because I was giving it a try. I agreed that “The Big Question” is most important and if this could help with that, then it was worth an effort. Over many years of practice, some good, some poor, the many teaching words of Zen Master Seung Sahn and of other Zen teachers, too, have made increasing sense. Perhaps my background as a performer and a musician made it easier to “Not know” and just watch as answers and understanding appeared when they or I was ready.

So what is Zen? Zen is finding your true self, answering that question “What Am I?” Zen practice is a set of expedient means to help work on that project.
There are several Zen Centers in the Twin Cities. Now there is one in Powderhorn. We practice in the Kwan Um School of Zen (Zen Master Seung Sahn’s teaching style) tradition on Wednesday evenings from 7:30 to 8:30 and Sunday mornings from 9 to11. We have extended sits usually once a month and will have a weekend retreat with a teacher this fall. Check www.bigriverzen.org for schedules and more information. Call 612-822-9520 or e-mail tgd108@usiwireless.com to set up an orientation to the practice.