I’ve been a practicing Zen Buddhist for about 6 years.
I found Buddhism when I was nineteen. After carefully deconstructing a harmful fundamentalist Christian outlook (thanks, Nietzsche!) I was basically starting from scratch, so I researched religions and decided which one I wanted to be. It took me a long time to decide that I wanted to be a Buddhist, and it took me an even longer time to decide that I wanted to practice Zen Buddhism. I actually had to practice awhile before I decided that’s what fit. Zen is one of those things that makes little sense to hear about it – it only makes sense to do. When you do Zen, you have this ‘‘aha’’ moment, a moment I have every time I meditate. The translation of Zen is ‘‘meditation,’’ which means Zen Buddhism = ‘‘meditation Buddhism.’’ It’s like I constantly am forgetting what Zen really is until I am sitting on the meditation cushion. Then it is something so meaningful to me I can only think of it in terms of religious ecstasy.
The moment of discovery, when you realize everything is perfect just the way it is, and that you lack nothing… it’s WOW.
I don’t have a regular sangha (community) but there is a local temple I attend occasionally. I usually have panic attacks when I go, because I have issues with public spaces and social interaction on occasion. I am mature enough in my practice to know that this is not really a good excuse anymore. One of my major goals is finding a good community in my new neighborhood in NJ. I have a temple set up at home with some statues of Kwan Yin and Green Tara, a meditation cushion, incense. It’s nice having a sacred space at home. Some months I meditate constantly, other months I don’t formally meditate at all. The intensity of my practice ebbs and flows, but it always grows. I practice shikantaza meditation which is ‘‘only just sitting’’ and it basically means you sit there and pay attention. I love it. I learn so much from just sitting.
The trick is most definitely moving what you learn in meditation into real life. When I first started meditating I learned to focus on the breath – this is a cool trick to learn, because no matter where you are–in traffic, at work, hiding under your bed as an asteroid hurtles toward the earth – you’ve got your breath to come back to. The breath is an excellent check point when you’re overwhelmed by real life. I meditate all the time in real life, little mini-meditations of present awareness that help me get a grip on things and find peace in the midst of chaos. All I have to do is breathe and I remember my body, I feel where I am and I see the moment and I realize that’s all I’m really facing, that one moment in time, and then I know I will get through it, and I feel at peace. I do this all the time. Hourly. Impermanence is the key to my existence.
The biggest difference Zen has made for me is learning to live in my body and to experience myself rather than avoid sensations and feelings. Where I used to feel unease, I feel peace and acceptance. Whatever’s going on, that’s okay. For someone like me, this is the greatest freedom I could ever imagine. To suddenly have everything be okay is the greatest gift the world could ever give me. I kinda believe in god and I kinda don’t, but Zen has made me feel obligated to the universe in some way, like I owe it big for what it’s done for me.
Not saying I never get pissed off, or terrified, or sad, or caught up in stupid drama. But so much of the reason we suffer are the judgments we pass on those feelings and actions and attitudes. ‘‘I shouldn’t be sad, I shouldn’t be mad, I shouldn’t blah blah.’’ With Zen, I do that less and less often every day. Being in a bad mood is no longer the end of the world, nor is making a mistake. It’s just a bad mood, a mistake, the ebb and flow of life, and there is joy in it too. With Zen, I’m never a horrible person or a wonderful person, I’m just a person deserving of compassion. I finally feel safe with myself, to just be who I am and accept that person–and to accept others for who they are too. Seeing yourself in other people and other people in yourself, and yourself in the Universe and Universe in yourself… this is equanimity to me, and it makes sense.
And for mental health and therapeutic benefits… well, I could write a set of books on the value Zen has in treating depression and anxiety, but Cheri Huber already did that, and Zen concepts are the foundation of many evidenced based therapies–Dialectical Behavioral Therapy being the most obvious and notable. Sufficed to say Buddhism really has changed my life and enabled me to heal in a lot of ways.
When I first started practicing, I was hesitant to call it my religion, because I’m a kind of spiritual shapeshifter and I always expected I would eventually move onto a different way of thinking. But each day I am surprised to find it’s more and more relevant to my life. Buddhism is a wonderful paradigm for me, I guess it has stuck. And the passion I feel is really a kind of religious ecstasy. So I am definitely a Buddhist.
If you’re interested in an easy but powerful introduction to Zen, try ‘‘Being Zen’’ by Ezra Bayda and its sequel ‘‘At Home in the Muddy Water.’’ Phenomenal books that were my first introduction to Zen practice and really helped me bridge the gap between understanding and doing. And if you have any issues with anxiety or grief, or really just want to read something mind-blowingly beautiful, read Thich Nhat Hahn’s ‘‘No Death, No Fear.’’ There is a reason he’s such a prolific writer.
ETA: Chimera, you didn’t explain it poorly. You explained it perfectly.