Lessons from Zen: Light

I went to a number of temples during my time in Japan. I have been fascinated by Zen for quite a while and was excited to see some of its world famous abodes. 

Having spent most of my spiritual education in India, it was stark how different the cultures are. In India, the temples are often incredibly colourful, surrounded by traffic and full of a parade of people jostling to offer some rice or sugary sweet to a deity, normally in the form of an animal or statue. They are chaotic and alive with the devotional energy of true believers intent on praying, receiving or both. 

Japan’s temples were almost the polar opposite. With very little colour and often surrounded by natural beauty, they could easily be seen as austere with their tatami mats, screen door walls and monochromatic art. They are essentially tourist sites these days, with very few Japanese people practicing Buddhism today and, if they are, it is to ask a boon (better grades, a promotion, a child) of one of the Jizou statues out the front. 

There were certain commonalities in the dozen (plus) I visited, and this is the first in a series investigating the commonalities and consistencies in their design which mirror some core teachings of Zen. 

The first thing that struck me most was the use of light, water and air in the temples. 

Zen is, in many ways, the child of Buddhism (from India) and Taoism (from China). Numerous teachings can be seen across all three, though some are unique to Zen and come from the marriage of these two traditions. 

One of the perennial themes in both Taoism and Zen in particular is the playfulness of existence, particularly between what is material and immaterial. 

Often, this is represented by water and air; probably the reason there are often koi fish and birds either present in temples or depicted in the limited art that adorns them. 

Another way in which this can be noticed is through light, such as the stunning komorebi (or scattered sunlight filtering through the trees) often seen in Zen gardens. 

Some of the most breathtaking outdoor spaces were gentle forests of maple, cherry trees and bamboo surrounded by a carpet of moss. Through the canopy of pinnated leaves, the sun creates dancing shadows playing across the living floor in such a way you can not only see but experience the light. Filtered rays are clear for even the untrained eye to see and it changes the sense of light from being pervasive to contained, almost intimate. 

Light, like water and air, cannot be held, only touched.  

They are beautiful examples of life being both material and immaterial, just like human beings. Regardless of your personal perspective, it is impossible to argue against us being both physical and metaphysical. 

You cannot touch emotions or thought, yet they carry weight.

You can hold air, materially and briefly, before having to release it to being untouchable once more. 

There is a Zen saying that reads: 

“Yet if there was a bird who first wanted to examine the size of the sky, or a fish who first wanted to examine the extent of the water-and then try to fly or swim, they will never find their own ways in the sky or water.” 

To me, this highlights how we do not need to investigate every aspect of our reality before we accept it. Exploration comes from the humility of not having all the answers, of holding a question and seeing where it takes you. It is this question that guides us, not the ‘truth’ we search for. 

Personally, sitting with the idea we are both matter and ephemera - amphibians as C.S. Lewis calls us - allows me to understand myself in ways being nothing-but-stuff never did. 

Zen gardens exemplify this concept; you can feel a different depth of spirit walking through them which brings you back to the subtle essence of who you are, beyond what you may feel or think. 

They bring you back to yourself and the simple fact you are alive and able to recognise it. 

What a profound gift. 

If I was to leave you with one line to take away from the sense I felt in these places it is this: 

Your next breath is the most sacred thing you will ever touch. 

Cherish it.