Interfaith Dialogue

Interfaith Insights 3 – Zen Buddhism

Welcome to our third “Interfaith Insights” conversation.
In this interview Anthony MacIsaac learns more about Zen Buddhism from long time friend, theoretical physicist, and Bruce Lee admirer, Neil Warrack, a Zen Buddhist living in Glasgow.

Anthony: As I understand it, you are Zen Buddhist. Perhaps you could give me a rundown of what drew you to this, and of where Zen stands in relation to other forms of Buddhism?

Neil: My first interest in Eastern traditions and philosophies probably came via martial arts and, in particular, Bruce Lee movies. A good friend introduced me to Bruce Lee via the film “Enter The Dragon”, which certainly left an impression. I ended up videotaping “Way of The Dragon” which was on TV late one night; in that film – which I watched endlessly – I saw clearly in his character what all Buddhists would recognise as ‘right thought’ and ‘right speech’, two aspects of the Noble Eightfold Path.

I read about the martial art he developed, Jeet Kune Do, and was very interested in the underlying philosophy which was one of ‘no form’, which is like developing a selection-box of techniques from different formalised martial arts which would allow a fighter to respond without thought or constraint. I guess there is an advantage to being less predictable in a fight, but his approach also had a notion of ‘this is all you need’.

As a person he seemed content – I was attracted to that. There was also something about his disciplined nature that I loved. The idea that discipline ‘in the right direction’ can produce, eventually, unconstrained action is something that still attracts me. It reminds me of a jazz musician using a repetitious practice just so they can get up on stage and play something they have never played before. It seemed like a nice form of freedom.

Years later, whilst studying abroad in Hong Kong, a Zen Monk who was living at the halls of residence with us taught a group of us some very basic meditation techniques. I loved the apparent simplicity of it and the feeling that everyone was welcome and equally ready to start Zen meditation. When I moved back home to Glasgow, I looked up a local Zen group and headed along, not long after that, I guess I had the thought of, “OK – so, I’m a Zen Buddhist now.”

Compared to other forms of Buddhism, I think Zen is characterised by its emphasis on meditation practice. Zen is a word derived from another word meaning ‘meditation’. Certainly, as I’ve experienced it, meditation is an extremely important part of Zen that is probably central in the life of anyone who calls themself a ‘Zen Buddhist’.

Anthony: If we had to speak of God, how would you approach this?

Neil: You and I have often spoken of God and, although I don’t believe in a being who created the universe at some other time before I existed, I think we are often talking about the same thing and I certainly think we understand and agree with each other a lot of the time, despite the differences in the way we use language. I think we are both often verbally dancing around the fact that we see ourselves as being a part of something much, much bigger.

I find monotheistic religions often speak of a God who wants us to be a certain way, and non-theistic religions, like Taoism for example, speak of a ‘way’ that is natural or preferable in some sense. I find these two ideas are often in agreement when it comes to some of the big-picture things. It’s perhaps a bit funny to put it like this, but I believe that God is the thing that doesn’t require my belief. God is that thing which persists, regardless of my personal opinions. God is love, yes, and kindness and compassion, of course. But for me God is also hate, frustration and sadness as well. These things arise despite our beliefs!  To follow that logic, I believe God is also sandwiches and traffic lights and all those other, less-dramatic, things.

I find conversations about faith so fascinating when I feel a deep agreement between two people who may seem to have very different ways of looking at the world. You and I studied physics together and, at its core, physics is the process of asking the question, “What can we, as individual humans, agree upon?” We call those agreeable notions ‘facts’ and say they point to some larger, more fundamental, truth; a truth that doesn’t care about our differing private opinions. Physics and Buddhism agree that we are part of a very big ‘whole’, the universe, but I think we can go even further and say that not only are we part of something bigger but that there really isn’t a very good notion of ourselves at all. That’s because it isn’t needed by Buddhism or by physics, and it can often be detrimental to our realisation of what is true.

The ‘self’ doesn’t really exist in Buddhism in any sort of fundamental way, and in the physics of quantum theory we also have no notion of ‘self’, although physicists don’t really use that word. In our currently popular form of quantum theory, we have the notion of ‘measurement’, to put this another way, we have the mathematical description of an observation, but there is no real ‘observer’ in the maths. There is no bit of the calculations that you can point to and say, “That’s the thing that is observing!” Most quantum theorists probably agree that this is slightly unsatisfactory or maybe just that it is a little non-intuitive, but the theory doesn’t require an observer at all. Our assumption that someone must be the observer leads us directly to logical paradoxes. We get into confused thinking just by imposing our own opinions and ideas onto that which is in front of our eyes. I love the phrase in the American declaration of independence that goes, “We hold these truths to be self-evident”. For me physics and religion, and all life, is about exploring that which is truly “self-evident”, I think when I speak of God, I’m speaking about something which, hopefully one day, we can all agree is clear and self-evident.

Anthony: To move away from pure theology, how is your community organised? You told me before that you have a Roshi (master), and perhaps you can tell me more about this relationship. It sounds similar to the role of a Spiritual Director in Catholic Christianity.

Neil: We have, in our Glasgow ‘Sangha’ a ‘Sensei’. The Sangha is just the Buddhist community. The whole world is a Sangha really, but in our own local one we have a qualified teacher who we call Sensei. This is a person who has had their insight verified by someone who has had their insight verified by some who has had their insight verified by…. you get the idea. We have Roshis and other Senseis in our larger Sangha; connected groups in Sweden, Finland, the U.S.A, and elsewhere. Roshi means ‘old master’ or ‘old teacher’ and it is usually honorific, at least in our tradition. Besides Senseis and Roshis, which you might call ‘teachers’, we have Priests and Abbots who are trained in the wider areas of Buddhist tradition, philosophy and ritual. It is common for a teacher to be a Priest or an Abbot, but it is not essential. Likewise, we have Priests who are not teachers. I think it would be reasonable to think of a Roshi as a spiritual director, although I’m not 100% what that means in Catholicism!

Anthony: You have spoken before about the idea of illusion and enlightenment. As we move away from maya (illusion) towards the ‘real’, what might we experience? In other words, what might enlightenment feel like? If I understand correctly, it will certainly mean that our language becomes somewhat redundant, and that we may enter into a form of experience that can’t quite be expressed. I’d also ask here about the role of Buddhist scriptures – to what extent do these help?

Neil: I think words are powerful, but they have a slippery dynamic nature, I think that’s apparent whenever people take something the wrong way, which seems to happen all the time! But, to go a bit further than that, words are often used as a way to communicate, and we are often communicating ideas like, for example, ‘murder is wrong’ or ‘I need to catch my train before lunch’. I think Buddhism is a tradition of exploring something which is not an idea. Of course, reality can be conceptualised, but it is obviously more than just a concept and Buddhism is a framework of sorts to explore reality in a way which moves away from conceptualisation. The term often used is ‘direct experience’. My teacher often says, ‘we have a lot of ideas – we probably don’t need any more’.

So, if I can talk of enlightenment at all then it is perhaps best to say that it’s about directly experiencing our world in a way that is a little bit more aware of our very human preoccupation with conceptualising everything. We believe our conceptualisations very readily and this belief is an attachment that is not required by nature. I think of ideas as being sticky; some ideas are a bit sticky; others are really sticky. Buddhism says that our ideas, and any associated ‘stickiness’ they may have, are essentially a form of delusion and enlightenment is about becoming unstuck, or realising that there is, in fact, nothing for ideas to even stick to. The whole thing gets difficult (even sticky itself) when we talk about it, but I guess that’s part of the fun?

Anthony: Finally, you have a masters in theoretical physics and are currently completing a research masters in experimental particle physics, what impact do your physics studies have on your Buddhism and vice-versa? I’m also interested in whether there is an interplay between your Buddhism and your work as a musician.

Neil: In truth, my Buddhist practice cannot be separated from any other aspect of my life, be that studying physics, playing music, or eating breakfast. So it’s everywhere.

If the benefits of meditation practice, for example, didn’t extend outside the realm of those moments of meditation, why would I bother?

This must be true of all religious practice; it changes the way you move around in the world and the way you experience things. I suspect most Christians aren’t playing a gamble of ‘if I am good now, then I get heaven later’. That would be hard to maintain for a lifetime without any real daily payoff, we all like to see returns in the short term, right?

To be a bit less vague, my Buddhist practice allows me to deal with the emotional bits of life in a more complete and fulfilling way. This way, I feel like I feel more, it’s good. I believe that meditation can also help with concentration. Before I developed a regular meditation practice, playing music seems to have been my meditation. It puts you right there in the moment and you learn to lean on something that requires no thought, especially when playing with others; there is a wordless communication that never ceases, if you care to tap into it, and you can sort of sit back and watch it all happen. And when it’s flowing and you are ‘in the zone’, there really are no wrong answers, there’s just the music, calling and responding to itself, and sometimes it’s really enjoyable… and sometimes it’s really not.