When I was about twelve, apparently for no reason, I saw the light. For about five years, I strongly believed in God and Jesus.
Then, someone turned off the light.
I was kind of in limbo, so to speak; I couldn’t honestly believe in God, but that lack of belief left a gaping void. You know, late teens: who am I? what am I doing here?
Around that time, I took an English lit. class on the beat generation. The teacher spent quite a bit of time talking about Zen and Buddhism. In retrospect, he didn’t know as much as I thought he did then, but he made it seem very interesting.
From that point on, I liked to tell people I was agnostic leaning on Buddhist. Of course, my only source of Buddhist teachings was the works of Snyder, Ginsberg and Kerouac.
One day, I found myself in an argument with a rabid fundamentalist born-again Christian. It dawned on me I knew jack squat about Buddhism. But I was determined to win the argument in the end, and that very evening I bought myself an intro to Buddhism-type book.
It was a great “revelation”. Somehow, the Buddhist philosophy managed to address most of my deep question, and managed to do so by trotting around my lack of faith or belief.
A few weeks later, I contacted the local Zen centre and started my practice.
In Buddhism, it is said there are three kinds of knowledge: that which you know from word of mouth, that which you know from reasoning and that which you know through experience.
Science is one of mankind’s greatest achievements, however, no matter how many books you read on acoustics, music theory, music history, and violin technique, you won’t be able to actually play the violin until you start practicing. And that is how I see Zen Buddhism: practicing the skill of being. You can master logic all you want, it’s not going to be of much help in the face of old age, disease and death.
And, fyi, I do not believe I will be reincarnated. Or resurrected. Or annihilated. For the simple reason that I’m not quite sure what that thing “I” is anymore.