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In Zen we lose the question

“For if nirvana is the state in which the attempt to grasp reality has wholly ceased, through the realization of its impossibility, it will obviously be absurd to think of nirvana itself as something to be grasped or attained.” ~ Alan Watts, The Way of Zen, “Mahayana Buddhism,”                                                              

There was a post on a Zen page on Facebook asking about limited consciousness.  My reply was that “in Zen we lose the question”.  In a subsequent reply to that post, I wrote that, “I find the whole concept of existence incomprehensible, something our brains (based on our evolution) are not designed to comprehend. Coming to that conclusion, the question of unlimited consciousness seems irrelevant.”

I’m not a scientist, but when one examines simple life forms, it might seem logical that, over eons, our brains evolved from a primitive stimulus and response system.  We are not designed to answer “what is reality?”  Our nervous system is all about propagating the species, in other words, staying alive and reproducing.  If anything, it is the ego, the guy inside all of us doing the talking that possesses the notion that a human brain is capable of understanding everything.  But is our brain equipped to realize – and I use that word “realize” because enlightenment is a realization rather than an understanding – can we realize that the realm of existence, our perceived reality, is beyond our ability to comprehend it?

If you indeed do come to that realization, you do “lose the question” and instead awaken to Hui-Neng’s “From the first not a thing is.”

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Art and the Radiance of Existence

“Behind all these manifestations is the one radiance, which shines through all things. The function of art is to reveal this radiance through the created object.”
Joseph Campbell

When a piece of music, or a painting, or a poem has a universal appeal it touches what Alan Watts describes as the “fabric and structure of existence itself”, in Zen we might use the word suchness to describe that structure (for lack of a better term). It transcends description; it is that which cannot be spoken.

In the mornings I listen to Jeff Spurgen on WQXR, the classical music station for New York City. While I was making breakfast the other day, during the “daily Bach” segment he played Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, BWV 147. Standing at the sink in my kitchen, the performance really touched me. Upon the conclusion of the piece, Mr. Spurgen commented that the oboe playing was breathtaking, although he remarked that it sounded like, Daniel Nicholas, the oboist never took a breath.

I had another similar experience at a concert by the band the Flatlanders. Songwriter Butch Hancock was singing one of his songs, and was nailing it, a song that they probably performed at every show. This time it was special. I couldn’t look away; it was such a moving performance. At the conclusion of the song, fellow band member Joe Ely turned to Butch and expressed his own sense of amazement at the depth of the performance. Obviously Joe and I had both recognized something in that performance.
We all possess a common thread that tethers us to the absolute. We are all connected through that thread, at a level that is fundamental to all of reality.
Visual arts also allows for a transmission of mind. Walking into a museum space and being drawn to a painting or a piece of sculpture is another example of transcending the familiar and examining a deeper level of experience. Whether it’s Devinci, or Van Gough, Pollack, Rodin, or Calder, the works of the artists express that which is intangible, – and in making a connection through that which is universal – they bring forward that which underlies our day to day.
Art functions as a conduit for conveying the essence of existence. If that connection could be analyzed and explained in any other way, there would be no need for the arts.

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