Le Chef

Zen can be understood as a science of the mind—not in the modern academic sense, but as a systematic practice. It is based on observing causes and effects and uses exercises to train and cultivate the mind.

One approach is to understand the influences on mind and well-being as forms of nourishment. Four types are distinguished: material nourishment, nourishment through sensory contact, nourishment through intention, and nourishment through consciousness. From this perspective, our well-being is thus a result of our habits of nourishment, which extend far beyond food and drink. We encounter images, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and thoughts that influence our well-being. Movies, conversations, or situations can affect us positively or negatively.

The intention with which we start the day, and the motivation with which we pursue an activity, also function as forms of nourishment. If, for example, an entrepreneur is primarily concerned with enriching himself, he may lie to and deceive others. He might become upset about whatever stands in his way and perhaps even develop hatred toward others. However, one can approach the same work with honesty, tolerance, generosity, and joy, thereby positively influencing both oneself and one’s surroundings. This is what we mean when, in Zen, we refer to the intention behind an action as nourishment.

Consciousness as nourishment calls for closer explanation. The word “consciousness,” as a noun, can create the impression that it refers to something permanent or tangible. But that is not the case. We should therefore ask: “Conscious of what?” Thus, in Zen, we speak of visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, tactile, and mental consciousness. When, for example, a sound reaches the ear and is processed by the nervous system, we may speak of auditory consciousness. It arises due to certain conditions and is therefore a passing result. Together with further conditions, a moment of auditory consciousness can itself become a cause of a feeling—for instance, when someone plays us a song.

A moment of consciousness can also contribute to an experience being stored within us as information. In some Buddhist traditions, this is referred to as “store consciousness.” However, I consider this term misleading: it suggests that there is a store in which consciousness is kept. What remains is not an earlier consciousness, but information—or a disposition that has arisen from experience. According to current scientific understanding, the ability to remember experiences is associated with changes in neural networks in the brain; at the same time, experiences can shape the regulation of bodily responses. This may be evident, for example, in changes in heart rate, breathing, and muscle tension in stressful situations. When present sensory stimuli later activate this information, anchored in the organism, no earlier moment of consciousness is retrieved. Rather, new perceptions, sensations, and impulses to act arise through the dynamic interaction of brain, body, and the present environment.

We call the fluctuating arising and passing away of moments of consciousness—each of which may be both an effect and a condition for further arising—the stream of consciousness. Like a stream of water, it has no fixed existence and no unchanging substance, yet it is effective. To understand consciousness as nourishment and the effects that arise from it, and to work with those effects in the service of the wholesome transformation of the mind, we practice Zen. Mindfulness plays a central role in this. The point is not to impose an externally prescribed or self-devised diet upon ourselves. Through continuous, careful observation, you yourself become the chef: You discover which ingredients are wholesome and how to prepare a good meal for yourself and for others.

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