"Do not seek the truth; simply let go of your attachment to opinions."
If you try to grasp Zen, it slips through your fingers. If you attempt to explain it, you get entangled in words. If you think you understand it, you are probably mistaken. But if you let go of trying and simply allow Zen to unfold, everything becomes clear.
Zen is a paradox—a joke that can only truly be laughed at once you stop trying to solve it. It is not a religion, but if you treat it as one, it becomes a religion. It is not a philosophy, but if you analyze it, it turns into philosophy. It is not a method, yet if you attempt to follow it, it becomes a method. And when you declare, "I understand!" Zen masters only smile—and perhaps throw a teacup at you.
People ask, "What is Zen?" as if expecting a ready-made definition they can jot down and carry in their pocket. But if Zen were something definable, it would not be Zen. A master was once asked this question, and he simply replied:
— Look at the river.
— And so? — asked the disciple.
— It flows.
That is the essence. Zen is like water: you cannot grasp it, but you can swim in it. There is no single correct answer, but if you ask too many questions, you might drown.
Modern people are always searching for something—happiness, meaning, spiritual enlightenment, instant salvation from a YouTube video or a bestselling self-help book. But Zen says: nothing is hidden. What is, has always been here. The truth is not something to be found but something to recognize—because it has always stood before you, though you were too busy to notice.
Zen, therefore, is not another "how to achieve" program. It is not an "ultimate truth" to be learned. Zen is a method of doing nothing, methodically. It has no rules to follow, no doctrines to uphold. Zen does not promise to change your life because life does not need changing—only seeing as it is.
But if Zen is so simple, why is it so hard to grasp? Because the mind wants to complicate it. The mind loves to ask questions, build theories, analyze, and dissect. But Zen does not exist in the mind. Zen is in action, in the present moment, in lifting a teacup, in your breath, in your footsteps. Zen does not happen at the level of thought but beyond it.
If you ask how to understand it, the master might throw a stone into the water and ask, "Do you see?" If you still do not understand, he might simply close the door in front of you and leave you alone with your question. And then, when you stop thinking and simply observe, you might suddenly understand.
So, if you ask, "How do I begin?"—you are probably thinking too much.
Just sit. Observe. Breathe. Smile.
And then, perhaps—just perhaps—you will realize that Zen has always been here.