The Master’s Roar

When a dog gets too hot, it finds a shady spot. When a meadow is mowed frequently, the dandelion grows shorter stems to escape the blade.

We want to protect not only ourselves, but also other people, animals, and plants that are dear to us. We care for our loved ones: our children and family members, friends and acquaintances, and perhaps even our neighbors and fellow citizens. Some work to support people in need in other countries, protect the environment, or even safeguard outer space.

Sometimes we are even willing to endure painful situations or difficult phases of life when we are convinced that they will bring something positive in the long term. If someone interferes with our well-being, or if something threatens what has become dear to us, this can give rise to anger and conflict. This is why people have developed ethical foundations and agreed on rules of conduct.

Influential early thinkers such as Confucius in China, Siddhartha Gautama in India, and Socrates in Greece devoted themselves intensely to ethical questions. Later legal and political systems took up their ideas and developed them further.

Careful reflection and the insight or philosophy that arises from it provide the basis for the development of an ethical framework. Yet the converse is equally true: we need a peaceful, protected environment to devote ourselves to contemplation. Ethics, meditation, and insight inter-are. Each gives rise to and nourishes the others.

If I wish to avoid suffering or reduce it to a bearable level, I should become aware of the causes that lead to problematic situations. I therefore reflect on them carefully. To do this, I create a supportive environment for myself or go to a quiet place. Once I have identified and analyzed the cause, I develop a method that helps me transform my patterns of thought, feeling, and behavior in a positive way.

The three interlocking aspects – learning, meditation, and mindfulness practice in relation to our thinking, feeling, and behavior – can be regarded and used in Zen as fields of practice. These fields of practice are not ends in themselves. We should always understand them and put them into practice in the context of the personal difficulties we face in life. Zen manifests itself in its practice; it is therefore practical. Zen is neither a religion nor a junk room full of knowledge nor a schoolmaster who tells others how they should behave and what they should do.

We therefore observe cause and effect continuously and with ever greater care: Which thoughts trigger which feelings? Which feelings give rise to which words and actions? Which encounters, conversations, and sense impressions nourish my well-being? What insights do I gain through meditation, and to what extent do they enable me to change my attitude toward daily events and facts in a positive way?

Nobody can prescribe what ethical behavior looks like in the context of your own awakening. When a Zen student came to his master, the master shouted: “Why do you leave the door open?” At their next encounter, the student carefully closed the door behind him. The master roared: “Why do you close the door?”

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