Seasonal Transitions

My readings of Zen & the Brain have slowed down a bit in the past week. Part of this has been due to the nature of the material - not the easiest to pick up and breeze through! But I am continuing, and sharing what I find with others. I find if I can explain it to someone in simple, everyday terms, I must have a fundamental grasp of it.
One relatively minor thing I discovered was the fact that in Japan there are more than four official seasons. The Japanese regard seasonal transitions as kinds of seasons unto themselves. Well, if not in the Southern Hemisphere, we in the Northern one are definitely in the middle of one of those unofficial seasons. Everywhere, things are mid-way between winter and spring - with spring predominating so far. Small, soil-hugging spring ephemerals of the horticultural variety have been appearing in gardens for the past two weeks, more like alpine or Arctic plants than Temperate Forest zone ones (my bioregion). If the warm weather persists in the next fortnight, the tulips, daffodils, irises, and so on will stretch to normal heights. Then we really will know we are in Spring proper. Until then, we'll be in this as-yet-unnamed season, unsure what coats to put away or leave out, nervous about storing winter boots, and superstitious about hiding the snow shovel.
Transitions are interesting because they embody ambiguity, a concept the human mind finds fascinating and troubling. We enjoy our categories, don't we? I don't need to remind anyone of either the benefits of classification or the terrible costs.
Zen teachings encourage the mind to embrace the Oneness of all. The challenge - one of many, I suppose, in a highly disciplined practice - is to break down (artificial) fences and see the underlying connections. We cling to those cozy categories and refuse to acknowledge their evanescence and arbitrary narture. With concerted study, the mind can learn to recognize the innate tendency to group things as like or not-like, and transcend those areas of disconnection. An "easy" place to start would be the human species, which we now break down into classes, religions, cultures, skin colors, and on and on. Those differences are indeed there - diversity exists in the world of humanity and most everything else - yet they also do not exist.
Try holding that thought in your mind for a few minutes. It's not exactly a Zen koan, but it will do until a real Zen master comes along to suggest one!

Zen and Oneness

One thing is everything
all things are One.
If you know only this, then
don't worry about attaining perfect knowledge
- Master Seng-ts'an

I chose the blogspot name "poetryandecology" for a good reason. Both poetry & ecology are realms of connection. Ecology sees the interconnection of all life - from a relatively simple food web to certain complex genomic elements shared by many or most species. Poetry uses metaphors and symbols to form connection between ideas and images.
Zen realizes this and trains the brain of the practitioner to know (almost viscerally rather than cognitively) the Oneness of the universe. We are not alone. Each of us is immensely important - a part of this tremendous whole - and yet very small. On a fundamental level, none of our problems is of great consequence. But the only way to see this is to stand back and see the big picture.
Not easy. Thus the need for study!
That's why I keep reading.

Why Zen - and now?

Although I have read a few chapters of Zen & the Brain today, it's mostly about the neuroscientist author's own introduction to zazen, so not as translatable into a blog summary (+ comment) as the earlier passages. Before I go back to the beginning of the book and summarize and comment upon them, I think I should explain my fascination with Buddhism - not just the Zen subset - and how a book combining Zen with neuroscience is a perfect fit for me, at this time.
I'm at a stage of my life where I feel both more hope and more despair than ever before. Age has brought wisdom, which says plenty of seemingly paradoxical things, e.g., life is full of joy and life is full of sorrow. Patterns start to form from formerly unconnected facts or phenomena (probably a good definition of wisdom in itself).
With many gloomy and challenging things ahead, such as the infirmities and deaths of loved ones, I want to maximize my cognitive and emotional strength, for my sake and theirs. The obvious refuge for many people in search of strength would be a religion, but I have a natural aversion to the organization of spirituality (and many other things). Buddhism is a way of looking, of living, not a religion, though it is often classified as one.
My studies in neuroscience have clarified many lifelong mysteries for me - and will continue to do so, no doubt! One thing is the serenity afforded by being present: quieting the distracted mind (which causes stress, a body-bruising force) and narrowing one's attention. We could all do with more serenity. In fact, many of our so-called vices are convoluted (futile) means of seeking the silence of the sacred grove - as we live in crowded cities, lead frantic lives, and can barely hear ourselves think.
I think discovering a permanent means of focus, attention, and serenity - through breathing exercises, and so on - would be a healthy, cost-free, and easily accessed alternative to eating, drinking, shopping, watching movies, and other stop-gap measures. (They are all fairly harmless in themselves - note I did not include illegal drug use - but if used instead of what really leads to the desired goal, they are empty.)
My desired goal is mindfulness. Distraction diffuses energy, wastes it. And I cannot be mindful or present or attentive unless I find a way of calming my monkey mind (what a great term), convincing it that everything will be all right.
A formidable task: "I" do not really believe this quite yet....

Zen and the Brain

Last week, I made a very short report on Antonio Damasio's Looking for Spinoza. Well, as good and as inspiring as that book is, I think I have found a better one. It's called simply (appropriately) Zen and the Brain. The author is James H. Austin, M.D.
Although it is a very long (700 pages) and incredibly complex book - ambitiously combining, as the title suggests, both explanations of Zen Buddhism and the neurological underpinnings of the practice of zazen (meditation) - it is a relatively easy one to read.
I find myself looking forward to sitting down with it, and reading one to four (short to medium-length) chapters at a time.
Yesterday, after reading Chs. 8& 9 on the Self - a topic integral to the practice of Zen and many other mystical pursuits - I thought it might be a good idea to start sort of a blog-within-a-blog. As I read the book, I could touch upon the salient features of each chapter or group of chapters. If anyone wants more details, let me know. I hope I will hear from those out there interested in inquiring about this fascinating interface of disciplines.
Please join me!