Zen practice has nothing to do with intellectual speculation, and it also isn’t a philosophy. Philosophy, a Greek word, means “love of knowledge, thinking, inquiring, pondering.” If we follow this thinking and inquiring with discipline, apply a certain logic, and organize these thoughts in a specific way, we might end up with a theory or a philosophy in the attempt to understand ourselves and the world.
If we internalize a specific model of thought, a specific system, a particular theory, we soon see ourselves looking at everything through that particular belief system. It’s like putting on a pair of tinted sunglasses; everything we see is slightly tinted. In the beginning, we are aware of it, but soon we get used to the tint and think that’s how the world looks. We can go along with this until we meet somebody with differently tinted glasses. When this person describes the world, everything might be tinted slightly green, whereas ours might be slightly brown. Before we know it, we are arguing about who is right. That’s the thing with philosophies, belief systems, and notions - we have something at stake which needs to be maintained, defended, and protected.
Practice is the opposite. There’s a Zen saying, “A snowflake falling on a red hot stove.” A snowflake falling on a red hot stove - it’s a beautiful description of practice and points to a simple truth: moment to moment, there is an experience. If it is experienced without filtering it through a system of thoughts, concepts and narratives, without either grasping or rejecting, if it is experienced as it is, then it’s like a snowflake hitting a red hot stove. It’s arising -melting, arising - melting, arising - melting. The direct and immediate experience itself is the heat that melts. Of course, it doesn’t melt outer circumstances, but it dissolves the separation we feel between ourselves and everything else—the slight feeling of lacking something and of not being whole. The experience is lived fully, but there is no center or self apart from what is happening. Practice is not a matter of remembering and accumulating knowledge. It’s a matter of burning up and dissolving. There is openness in this arising and melting because there is nobody constantly judging and criticizing: ‘This shouldn’t happen; I wish it would be different.”
There is one philosophy we all share and carry around - it’s called “I.” If we filter everything through the lens of that “I,” we lose sight of the free and vivid aliveness of arising and melting. We grasp things, experiences, or concepts. It doesn’t matter whether we try to solidify or get rid of them; either way, they settle down like dust, like a veil covering our original empty nature. Life starts to feel heavy and like an ongoing struggle and problem.
A snowflake falling on a red-hot stove - it is a very clear, crisp, and awake situation. There is nothing murky or mushy at all. Each moment is clear and crisp if not filtered through the lens of “me.” Everything arises in and as that clarity while dissolving in the uncompromising heat of the red-hot stove.
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