Are there any easy answers? It may be just a human characteristic to both desire and mistrust quick solutions to enduring problems, but the American version seems especially polarized. And this polarization is easily illustrated by looking at some current meditation perspectives.
There are a multitude of techniques, some basic, like following the breath, repeating a mantra, doing a body scan, or visualizing a peaceful scene. There are highly advanced ones, of which I know nothing at all, that are associated with Tibetan and various tantric practices. There are also rather technological ones, that use different triggers for brain wave states, as well as certain drugs that either activate or suppress certain circuits in the brain.
Here is an excerpt from an Amazon reader's review of The Eight Gates of Zen, by John Daido Loori:
Instead of self reliance and self empowerment through one's own realization, books like these present practice as some sort of"rocket science" that we must study and burden ourselves with for our entire life. This book makes practice into such an uptight and burdensome endeavor. And you know...life is just too short and precious to waste it on the hamster wheel of practice and achievement. I'm not going to buy into this notion that life and practice are some sort of cross I must bear. Thank you very much, but I'll leave that to the Catholics. What a shame that people actually take this book and it's "training matrix" to be Zen. This book is just a complication. It is a hopeless attempt to concretize the spiritual journey which is, in fact, deeply personal, unique and beautifully undefinable and mysterious. Like art or falling in love, the systems that try to encapsulate the spiritual journey are completely and utterly besides the point.
This reader makes a fair point that practice should not be a burden and zen should not be a "system". Perhaps systematizing Zen practice is a peculiarly American thing to do. Perhaps the "burden" is just a hangover from the protestant work ethic. On the other hand, the reader has a very diffuse notion of what Zen is and seems to be concerned that whatever he or she does, so long as it is self-reflective, be labeled "zen".
On the low commitment end of the spectrum are mindfulness practices, on the high end, is some sort of life-long monastic experience. The low end does not require much in the way of a relationship with a teacher; as one proceeds along the spectrum, the teacher-student relationship becomes more and more substantial. Tradition and lineage imply a central importance of that relationship. Obviously, a technological approach to mindfulness requires little direct teacher input at all.
Upon reflection of my own practices, I am surprised by how complex they actually are. I sit meditation, either by tracking my breath or by visualizing the various techniques of Zen Sword that I study in Shim Gum Do. I do a few simple attention and mindfulness exercises throughout the day. Then there is grad school (in psychology) and short term cognitive therapy (for some other things). I am taking a class in Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction, so I might eventually teach some of the techniques to my students. It is hardly a summer camp schedule of one activity after another; rather it all flows quite seemlessly. But it is quite a lot of self-observation. It has coherence, which I greatly appreciate but could also easily slip into indulgence and solipsism. This is why I think a vigorous, external discipline is important for self-development: an external frame of reference continually challenges one's assumptions in a way that simply picking and choosing techniques will not. That external frame of reference is tradition, institutions, and teachers.
Interestingly, I received a package in the mail that announces:
Meditate like a Zen Monk at the Push of a Button.
It comes with an introductory CD, a discount on the whole course, and a money back guarantee.
Such a heady mix of neurological research, ancient tradition, and American Entrepreneurialism. It is kind of exciting. Maybe I can cure these headaches and the TMJ. Maybe I will get a glimpse of a mind-state that I have never seen before.
Or, maybe I will just have another arrow in the quiver. We will see.
There are a multitude of techniques, some basic, like following the breath, repeating a mantra, doing a body scan, or visualizing a peaceful scene. There are highly advanced ones, of which I know nothing at all, that are associated with Tibetan and various tantric practices. There are also rather technological ones, that use different triggers for brain wave states, as well as certain drugs that either activate or suppress certain circuits in the brain.
Here is an excerpt from an Amazon reader's review of The Eight Gates of Zen, by John Daido Loori:
Instead of self reliance and self empowerment through one's own realization, books like these present practice as some sort of"rocket science" that we must study and burden ourselves with for our entire life. This book makes practice into such an uptight and burdensome endeavor. And you know...life is just too short and precious to waste it on the hamster wheel of practice and achievement. I'm not going to buy into this notion that life and practice are some sort of cross I must bear. Thank you very much, but I'll leave that to the Catholics. What a shame that people actually take this book and it's "training matrix" to be Zen. This book is just a complication. It is a hopeless attempt to concretize the spiritual journey which is, in fact, deeply personal, unique and beautifully undefinable and mysterious. Like art or falling in love, the systems that try to encapsulate the spiritual journey are completely and utterly besides the point.
This reader makes a fair point that practice should not be a burden and zen should not be a "system". Perhaps systematizing Zen practice is a peculiarly American thing to do. Perhaps the "burden" is just a hangover from the protestant work ethic. On the other hand, the reader has a very diffuse notion of what Zen is and seems to be concerned that whatever he or she does, so long as it is self-reflective, be labeled "zen".
On the low commitment end of the spectrum are mindfulness practices, on the high end, is some sort of life-long monastic experience. The low end does not require much in the way of a relationship with a teacher; as one proceeds along the spectrum, the teacher-student relationship becomes more and more substantial. Tradition and lineage imply a central importance of that relationship. Obviously, a technological approach to mindfulness requires little direct teacher input at all.
Upon reflection of my own practices, I am surprised by how complex they actually are. I sit meditation, either by tracking my breath or by visualizing the various techniques of Zen Sword that I study in Shim Gum Do. I do a few simple attention and mindfulness exercises throughout the day. Then there is grad school (in psychology) and short term cognitive therapy (for some other things). I am taking a class in Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction, so I might eventually teach some of the techniques to my students. It is hardly a summer camp schedule of one activity after another; rather it all flows quite seemlessly. But it is quite a lot of self-observation. It has coherence, which I greatly appreciate but could also easily slip into indulgence and solipsism. This is why I think a vigorous, external discipline is important for self-development: an external frame of reference continually challenges one's assumptions in a way that simply picking and choosing techniques will not. That external frame of reference is tradition, institutions, and teachers.
Interestingly, I received a package in the mail that announces:
Meditate like a Zen Monk at the Push of a Button.
It comes with an introductory CD, a discount on the whole course, and a money back guarantee.
Such a heady mix of neurological research, ancient tradition, and American Entrepreneurialism. It is kind of exciting. Maybe I can cure these headaches and the TMJ. Maybe I will get a glimpse of a mind-state that I have never seen before.
Or, maybe I will just have another arrow in the quiver. We will see.
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