When You Seek It, You Lose It | The Zen Secret to Letting Go

Zen begins at the point where there is nothing  further to seek, nothing to be gained. Alan Watts We could see the human condition as quenching a thirst with salt water,  done repeatedly. We pursue goals that generally require us to pursue other goals.

We satisfy  our desires, which only leads to the same ones returning, often even more potent. We’re looking  for a way out, a definitive end of our thirst, an ultimate contentment. Unfortunately, no path  seems to lead us there.

It’s as if we’re stuck in an endless cycle of dissatisfaction. But there’s  hope. Thousands of years ago, Buddha offered humanity a way out.

Thus, Buddhism’s philosophical  tradition and religion came into existence, and it spread and developed into several schools. One of these schools is Zen Buddhism, prevalent in East Asia. We’re about to explore the core  of Zen, several key concepts, and how Zen is practiced.

Hopefully, at the end of this video,  you’ll have an idea of what Zen Buddhism is, how it could help quench your thirst by letting  go of desires, and how Zen differs from other Buddhist schools, both in theory and practice. But before you let go of desire, if you desire to support this channel, please consider joining  my Patreon, where you’ll find ad-free videos, have a say in future topics, and even receive  free merchandise. You can also follow me on social media for updates, quotes, and more.

Thank you. And I hope you’ll enjoy this video. Originating in India, Buddhism began spreading  through China in the first century.

Eventually, Chinese Chan Buddhism began to develop in the 6th  century, becoming a distinct school of Mahayana Buddhism. It wasn’t until the 12th century that  Chan Buddhism was first introduced in Japan by a Japanese Buddhist priest named Eisai, although  his attempt to establish a lineage failed. After him, other Chan disciples succeeded in  establishing Chan Buddhism in Japan, also known as Zen.

Zen is the Japanese pronunciation of  the same character, Chan, in Chinese. We’ll use the term Zen from now on, as it’s the Japanese  tradition on which this video essay is based. A unique feature of Zen Buddhism is  that it’s heavily influenced by Taoism, a Chinese philosophy and religion,  and, to a lesser degree, Confucianism, a Chinese system of thought and behavior.

Taoist  works like Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching and the concept of wu wei are deeply ingrained in Zen. Zen grew in Japan during the Kamakura period (1185–1333), becoming part of Japanese  culture through practices like the tea ceremony, calligraphy, and martial arts. Today, Zen  is practiced worldwide, along with other traditions such as Theravada and Vipassana,  which are both very popular in the West.

But compared to these traditions, Zen has quite  a different outlook on spiritual awakening and enlightenment and how it’s attained. Within Buddhism, one finds a distinction between two ways of enlightenment: the gradual  and the sudden. The Theravada school, which is currently quite popular in the  West, emphasizes that enlightenment (or nibbana) occurs gradually through lots of  practice and following the Eightfold Path.

In Zen, however, enlightenment is often  described as arising from a sudden experience, known as ‘satori. ’ It doesn’t arrive slowly and  over time; it’s immediate, without warning. So, imagine a thick layer of clouds between  yourself and a sunny blue sky.

In the gradual approach, the clouds dissolve one by one. In  the sudden approach, however, the clouds are blown away instantly; it’s an immediate event,  a sudden and profound shift in experience. In the Zen tradition, this moment of insight is  called ‘satori.

’ Satori is where the illusion of a separate, fixed self and reality is briefly  lifted. It offers a direct realization of the true nature of existence—an insight beyond mere  intellect, so profound that the illusory sense of separation collapses, and it collapses suddenly,  like an explosion or shattering of a mirror. Satori is letting go.

It’s the sudden dissolvement  of all illusion. The water becomes crystal clear. The Matrix is unveiled, so to speak, and  one realizes how things truly are.

Satori is also the starting point of the road to full  liberation: enlightenment. The truth is clear. And what’s been seen cannot be unseen. 

Now, it’s time to get oneself out of this mess once and for all. But where to begin? The starting place of Zen is the present moment, as it’s the present where everything happens. 

There’s no time like now. It’s when we experience, feel, think, and—simply—exist. In this  regard, Zen aligns itself with Stoicism, Taoism, and other schools of Buddhism.

Just read  Marcus Aurelius’ meditations, and you’ll notice he values the present moment, seeing it as a gift and  the only thing we have. Or listen to some Dhamma talks by the Theravada monks, and you’ll notice  that clinging to past events or worrying about the future are activities to let go of. They obscure  the present, where both practice and experience are done.

It’s also the basis for “wu-wei,”  a Taoist concept closely related to Zen. From the view of Zen Buddhism, reality  unfolds itself in the present. But even though the present is always there, we generally  cloud it by all kinds of thinking.

Our minds create this barrier between the world and an  illusory, separated “self. ” That same mind also turns out to be a master at analyzing,  overthinking, planning, and fantasizing: qualities that have a time and place and can  be valued as tools for survival and progress, but also get us into trouble, as they cut us off  from the direct experience of our surroundings. All these fantasies, concepts, judgments, et  cetera, lead to hesitation and overthinking.

We’re acting from a place of ego, in which past  and future abound. The present, and with that, I mean the actual, clear, undistorted present,  therefore, becomes small. But the past and future become big, along with the veil of concepts and  ideas we project onto the present.

Alan Watts, scholar of Zen and author of The Way  of Zen, describes it as follows: When life is empty, with respect to the past, and  aimless, with respect to the future, the vacuum is filled by the present—normally reduced to a  hairline, a split second in which there is no time for anything to happen. End quote. Zen aims to expand the present moment, which  means letting go of what’s obscuring it; in other words, clearing the sky of the  clouds between ourselves and the atmosphere.

A traditional Japanese way of expanding the  present is a tea ceremony. During chanoyu or ‘The Way of Tea,’ the participants are entirely  devoted to the ceremony, honoring the present moment and seeing it as unique, once in a  lifetime, never to be experienced again. The realization that every moment is unique, the  Japanese have a term for it: ‘ichigo ichie,’ which I made a separate video about a while ago.

In the present, you can experience satori, the a-ha moment, the letting go of the ego’s  illusions. The big question is: how exactly does one attain this sudden awakening? Let’s first discuss what not to do, as it’s the most apparent trap people tumble  into: seeking enlightenment and grasping for it.

In Zen, Buddhahood isn’t attained.  It’s already there. We should only burst through the illusions created by our  minds to get there.

One illusion the mind creates is a false sense of self—the idea that  there’s a separate, isolated ‘me. ’ I quote: It is fundamental to every school of Buddhism that  there is no ego, no enduring entity which is the constant subject of our changing experiences.  For the ego exists in an abstract sense alone, being an abstraction from memory, somewhat  like the illusory circle of fire made by a whirling torch.

End quote. This illusion becomes problematic if one  desires enlightenment. The ego desires it but cannot attain it, as enlightenment entails  the dissolution of the ego.

However, the ego cannot think beyond itself; it cannot create  a concept of enlightenment because it’s beyond thought. It’s the very thing that stands in the  way of enlightenment and must be destroyed, but it can only imagine itself as a part of it. It’s  like a bully looking forward to a party he isn’t invited to.

The party is a party because he’s  not there. His absence is why the party is fun. As Dharma master Lok To put it: True Nature is Mind; the Mind is Buddha; the Buddha is Dharma.

One should not use the  Mind to seek Mind, the Buddha to seek Buddha, nor the Dharma to seek Dharma. Therefore, Dharma  students should suddenly realize no-mind and suddenly attain stillness and silence. End quote.

The mind cannot grasp the mind. It’s  like a sword trying to cut itself, teeth trying to bite themselves. The mind seeking  to be enlightened is just another construct of the mind, the very thing standing in the way of  enlightenment.

Thus, from the viewpoint of Zen, when you’re seeking Buddhahood, you lose it.  The grasping of the mind to become enlightened is precisely why one isn’t. I quote: If you seek to understand Dharma better, don’t grasp the Sangha.

You should realize  that there is nothing to seek. Also, do not grasp the Buddha or the Dharma, for  again, there is nothing at all to seek. We’ve now arrived at the ambiguity of Zen. 

As we’ve been delving into concepts of Zen, such as the illusion of the self, the nature  of the present, and the vanity of seeking and grasping, putting this all into practice  means we should forget about this stuff; throw everything I said in the garbage. It’s like we’ve explored how a television works, how the circuits operate, how things are  connected, but now we’re about to watch it. These are two entirely different things.

The former  entails explanations and rational understandings; the latter requires attention. The ego, the  many concepts, the grasping and clinging, the overanalyzing and worrying; these need to go. But,  again, we can’t use our minds to eliminate these things.

We need to see through its illusions. Hence, it’s common for Zen monks to talk about Zen as little as possible. Revisiting Zen concepts  over and over equals lingering in the mind: the problem they actually intend to solve.

We need to stop seeking—not just for enlightenment, but for anything—because  the activity of ‘seeking’ is driven by a dissatisfied ego. In Zen Buddhism, meditation  techniques are used to dissolve the clouds of illusion so that the sky of awareness  becomes clear. As Thomas Merton describes: Buddhist meditation, but above all that of  Zen, seeks not to explain but to pay attention, to become aware, to be mindful, in other words to  develop a certain kind of consciousness that is above and beyond deception by verbal formulas—or  by emotional excitement.

Deception in what? Deception in its grasp of itself as it really is.  Deception due to diversion and distraction from what is right there—consciousness itself.

End quote. This process is gradual, which seems to  contradict satori, which is a sudden event. But even though the cultivation of the state  where satori may arise is a gradual process, satori itself still occurs suddenly:  we never know when it will happen.

Zazen is a meditation method used by Zen  practitioners. One of the goals of Zazen is developing a deep sense of focus, a right  concentration or ‘one-pointedness,’ also known as ‘Ekaggata’ in Pali. I’ve encountered countless  definitions of this state, which include stillness of mind, being in the present, and a harmony  between bodily and mental energy.

Unlike conventional concentration, one-pointedness is  relaxed and happens without effort or straining. The present moment becomes robust. There’s  clarity.

There’s a lack of mental illusions. Usually, when there’s sufficient  one-pointedness, the student begins koan practice. Koans are curious dialogues that  intend to lay bare the teachings of Zen.

They’re used to test the student’s insight but also  to progress on the path to true liberation. Koans are sophistically created to pierce  through rational thinking, to trap it, to exhaust it, so one can experience  what’s beyond it. Take, for example, a classic koan featuring Zen master Joshu: A monk asked Joshu, a Chinese Zen master: “Does a dog have Buddha-nature or not?

” Joshu replied: “Mu! ” Without context, this koan can seem puzzling.  The answer “Mu” points to the Buddhist teaching of sunyata (emptiness), which denies any fixed  essence behind phenomena, including the concept of Buddha nature.

Joshu’s response challenges  the notion of searching for a “true nature. ” There is no concept of “true nature. ” There’s  just this: direct experience beyond conceptual thinking.

However, by describing and naming it, I  already succumbed to the mind’s illusory nature. I’m trying to wash off blood with blood. In  essence, Zen isn’t a collection of ideas or concepts.

It’s about direct experience—something  beyond words and impossible to fully grasp with the thinking mind. This experience isn’t  something I can seek because I can’t even comprehend what I’m looking for. So, I guess the best way to describe Zen is… Thank you for watching.