There's a secret to spiritual practice, and it's surprisingly simple: learn to be present with attention. Do that, and the whole world becomes your teacher, you wake up to the sacredness of every aspect of existence, and compassion for others arises without even thinking about it. It's indeed just that simple, says Zen teacher Ezra Bayda, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's easy—especially when being present brings us up against the painful parts of life. Bayda provides a wealth of practical advice for making difficult experiences a valued part of the path and for making mindulness a daily habit. He breaks practice down into three phases:
• The Me Phase, in which we uncover our most basic and tightly-clung-to beliefs about ourselves, observe our emotions, and become intimate with our fears • Being Awareness, in which we cultivate a larger sense of what life is, transforming our limited experience into a more spacious sense of being • Being Kindness, in which we learn to connect with the love that is our true nature, and learn to live from that place of kindness and compassion
As with all spiritual books I really love, I read this one very, very slowly. There's so much on each page, you truly have to. I loved Ezra Bayda's first two books, but this one is probably my favorite. It's wonderfully plain-spoken and clear about subjects that are incredibly difficult to talk about, let alone write about; it's honest and encouraging but never seems to over-simplify things; it's a perfect blend of memoir/anecdote, advice, and inspiration.
I loved this book so much that I fell asleep, lights on, with the book gently pressed towards my chest and heart when having finished it as my evening read.
Ironically, for a book on Zen, Zen Heart too often gets in its own way--which isn't to say that there aren't any useful insights. Just that they are free-floating, not quite woven into a cohesive fabric.
These problems despite the fact that in Zen Heart, Bayda's fourth book, he has found his voice, a cohesive structure for what he is trying to say, and repeats a lot--sometimes almost verbatim--what was in his first book. The problem, I think, is that he is too "down to earth," as everyone likes to say about him, to opposed to theory and big-picture thinking. Thus, he dithers over the difficulties of defining practice, but mostly has no problem with invoking words like "love" and "energy."
It all becomes very confusing.
The influence of Chogyam Trungpa is especially strong here, though not in the language anymore--that is all Bayda, even the parts he has picked up from Trungpa--but int he structure. It's almost a Zen form of Trungpa's book of slogans, the book divided into three parts, five chapters each, and those chapters then divided into three. (There's also the generally Buddhist love for numbered systems: The Four Noble Truths, the Eight Hindrances, etc., etc.)
As explained in the introduction, the three part division of the book reflects what Bayda sees as the three phases of spiritual practice. (It's not a mistake that Bayda calls this spiritual practice, even though he emphasizes the mundane and eschews Nirvana.) The first is the Me of practice. The second is the foundations of awareness. And the third is Kindness (or mercy or living kindness). He is at pains to emphasize, though, that these three phases, while roughly building on one another and independent, also interpenetrate. One will never be free from a single phase and working exclusively on the others.
The me of practice is about identifying the conditioned responses that run our lives; this is very psychologically-oriented, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy explained with a different vocabulary. At times here--and in his previous book--he invokes Socrates "Know Thyself" dictum as a gloss for this phase, and sees it as a universal part of spiritual practice--but this is part of his rejection of philosophy: Socrates was saying something very different. It's an annoying tic of Bayda's.)
He starts this section noting that there are three external hindrances to being aware, or awake. (Canonically, Buddhism recognizes five.) Analyzing, blaming, and fixing. The first and the third are especially striking for the novice reader, but Bardem's method is very much opposed to thinking or rumination. Analysis he distrusts because it can be wrong. (We can try to analyze our childhood to figure out why we do the things we do, but probably won't get it right. Better just to deal with the emotions and conditioning as they are experienced.) he is mot opposed to fixing objective problems, but thinks that one can get into a fix-it mode without attending the emotions. This last point is valid, but it is hard to see in practice, a problem which reflects Bayda's glib approach to theorizing and systematic thought: how can one tell the difference? He doesn't deal with this.
He then identifies three internal hindrances: laziness--which he equates with blindly following a teacher--self-deception, which can be imagining we are in control (for Bayda, we are _never_ in control) or having fixed ideas about ourselves (we are good; we are worthless); and self-judgment: we should not be merciless in our assessment of ourselves. Whenever we start to judge ourselves, he recommends that we instead focus on our bodies and our experience of the moment.
Again, these are valid; and I am leery of pop-psychologizing needs to "grow" and what have you. Yet we are are often in objectively difficult or bad situations and need to change. There is nothing in this system that encourages change or even helps understand when we do need to change versus when we should just accept things. The (very useful!) Zen practices are offered as if we are not part of life--which is just the opposite of what Zen is supposed to do.
In chapter three, he comes back around to control, and the ways we vainly try to assert it: by trying harder (which he adits can be helpful, but as in the case of fixing, does not suggest when it is and when it is not); seeking approval; and escaping or numbing. Chapter four jumps gives a better solution to understanding one's self: the three pillars of practice: meditating (and getting rid of the idea that meditating will solve our problems. Ain't nothing going to do that); mindfulness in the face of everyday difficulties--by seeing our thoughts clearly and physically experiencing life. (He suggests a so-called daily menu, each day choosing to focus on one aspect of experience, to heighten it, or by reminding one's self the day through of a short aphorism--again, think of slogan cards.) And finally, retreats.
Which is where there is another connection to Chogyam Trungpa, though one not so favorable. Trungpa famously warned against spiritual materialism, and then so many of America's various spiritual traditions followed the path of materialism. (See Yoga, for the prime example.) Bayda flirts with this problem throughout, turning Zen into a lifestyle one follows. Advertising retreats--which he offers at his San Diego Center--is a clear example of this trap. To his credit, though, I only see him flirting with the possibility, not falling into it.
Chapter five, the last of the section, offers three breath practices. The first is a renamed practice from his first book, one that focuses first on the breath, then the body, then the environment; the second is staying with distress; the third is to recognize addictive tendencies. This whole chapter is very short and feels underdeveloped, as if he were straining to fill out his system to keep it balanced.
Part two looks into what it means to be aware--awake--conscious of the routinized responses we usually follow without paying attention. Three qualities are needed, Bayda says, and these seem entirely sensible. The first is perseverance. The second is saying yes--this is a reworking of the concept of curiosity and asking "What Is It?" that he got from his teacher (who had repudiated him the time between his first and fourth books): it means accepting whatever experience we are having and investigating it, not just letting it go or suppressing it. The third is mercy, which is another word for loving kindness, and he wants it applied to ourselves as well as the world.
Chapter 7 considers the three most essential questions (which are not the same as those Leo Tolstoy wrote about): Can I welcome this as my path?" "What is My Most Believed Thought?" (Again, he doesn't want introspection, but continually asking of the question until the answer pops up and feels right.) And "What Is This?" which is basically the same as "saying yes" from above. Chapter 8 furthers his investigation of awareness. The first step is to recognize awareness as a continuum--this owes a lot to William James's notion of stream of consciousness, though it is unacknowledged (and perhaps unknown.) The second is to be aware of the transience of emotions, though he uses different language. The third is to think of awareness as a camera, with concentration the looking through a lens, and mindfulness taking a snapshot. This chapter, like the fifth, feels strained to fill in the system.
Chapter nine comes back to breathing exercises, more or less repeating what was presented in chapter five. Chapter ten then offers other additional helpful practices: mind mapping (if you are ruminating on a problem, write on a paper the various thoughts that come to you over the course of several hours or days, then examine it for repeated ideas, finding your core belief, and working on that). Gatha walking--which is thinking a verse while walking. And nightly reflection. (Not included here, but elsewhere, and equally useful, is not thinking of a thought as coming from "me" or "I" but "it": It is unhappy. It is angry. Also from elsewhere is the idea that one does not express negative emotions--that's a way of avoiding them. Experience it, practice with it, then do what is necessary.)
Chapter 11 moves onto loving kindness, The first section considers teacher-student relationships--clearly fraught in Bayda's case. He breaks this into finding a teacher, dealing with the difficulties, and finding one's own place. He then moves on to dealing with anger--working with it rather than expressing it; transforming it into resolve; and avoiding blame. Then he moves on to fear--he is repeating in these chapters a lot of material from his first book. He points out that we need to realize we have little control, and work with the accompanying fear; that we are alone and can become disconnected--acknowledging our cosmic loneliness. And finally, the fear that we are unworthy. We do this last by identifying our core beliefs and recognizing them as only beliefs--not truths. This section was very close to CBT, but I still found it useful.
Chapter 14 butts up against problems inherent in his system. It is on relationships and love. He reiterates (again!) that we need to know ourselves; the when we have difficulties we need to avoid blame and look to ourselves. And that while we acknowledge our own pain we should still try to act from kindness. He ends the book with three meditations, as well as appendices, essential reminders, meditation instructions, and three vows.
The most useful part of the book, for me, was the way Bayda finessed the problem of self versus no self. He broke this into self-as-me and self-as-awareness. Probably this phrasing is not original to him, but I found it very useful.
And yet despite this insight, the book founders on the problems of self. If we do dismantle ourselves, the question becomes, in relationships, what do we love about the other person and how do we stay in love? Bayda briefly mentions that love is a difficult concept, but then skips over the difficulties and invokes it as a positive energy we should strive for. This namby-pamby vision is int he worst tradition of self help books. And it points to a bigger problem.
For all that Bayda goes on about breaking down the me-self, the book is, in the end, stuck in the mode of building a self, a more authentic self, but a self nonetheless. The Buddhist Ken Jones warns about coming to practice with the hope of making ourselves better, but the psychological root of Bayda's Zen threatens to turn it into just another mode of self help. The fact that he cannot escape the self--that when it comes to thinking about something more than the self, be it participation with others in group activities, with nature, in relationships, and with the wider world, he continually turns the question back to the self--suggests that his system is incomplete. (He sees romantic partners as a mirror for the self, for example!) The only external referent Bayda seems comfortable with is . . . God. Which is, you know, problematic.
It is in this way, too, that the book threatens to become spiritual materialism, Zen as lifestyle for the improvement of the self.
Jones has another warning, too, about the familiarity of the ground Bayda is covering. Bayda gives Zen his own gloss here and there, and some of it is helpful and even insightful--I learned stuff!--but nothing is fundamentally new. Buddhism itself remains stuck on the self, and difficult to connect beyond that sphere. There is no way to get from Bayda's vision of practice to a practice that engages with the wider world (rather than just experiencing), of trying in some little way to make it a better place.
It's self work all the way down. Which is selfish.
Again, Ezra was my zen meditation teacher in San Diego. I found this book more helpful than his last book I read. I like meditation books that really breakdown what exactly it is you're working towards while sitting in meditation, or while trying to bring awareness to your everyday tasks. Zen Heart focuses mainly on opening the heart center and gives specific meditation techniques to do just that. I definitely recommend it if any of my friends are into meditation (and I don't believe any of you are).
This book might be useful for beginners to Zen techniques and Buddhism, but not for people who are already aware of the basic concepts.
I found it didn't delve deep enough into the topics it presented. Also, I found the references to God uncomfortable, as it automatically assumes that the reader believes in God.
However the best part of this book is the meditation recommendations. The affirmations are really helpful and I will probably use them in everyday life. The appendix of essential reminders is a nice little summary of things to be aware of in the rush of everyday life.
There was a lot in this book to appreciate, but I got pretty bored by the end because Bayda is very repetitive. It's actually more a self-help book than a Buddhist book, and like most of those, it got sort of predictable and formulaic. He does give some meditation instructions that are in depth and workable.
Couldn't finish this. I don't know what I was expecting: earth-shattering wisdom? The secret to life, the universe, everthing? Whatever it was, I didn't find it. To be frank, I've found better information regarding Buddhism for free online.
This is not the first book on Zen I would recommend reading but it is excellent for those familiar with the subject. I very much like the insight Bayda has into using Zen to help us be more present and more awake in our lives.