This is the rough transcript of a talk I gave to the Zenways Sangha on Sunday 10 July 2022.
A few weeks ago, I attended the Buddhist wedding of our friends Sean and Emma. It was a beautiful ceremony in a wonderful setting in the woods.
At some point I was talking to somebody and we noticed an ensō, the Zen circle. The person I was talking to asked me what it meant.
Panic!
I realised that although I was very familiar with the image, I wasn’t particularly prepared to give somebody a clear explanation of what it meant.
I have an ensō at home. It hangs in a central position and I see it regularly. It has become part of my practice and a reminder of certain things that I find important.
So I decided that instead of trying to give a definitive explanation of the ensō, I could talk about what it means to me.
I am not a scholar of Zen and I haven’t been practising for an enormous number of years. What follows is simply the way I personally relate to this symbol and use it in my practice.
When I look at an ensō, I see two obvious things.
The circle.
And the empty space inside it.
The circle reminds me of unity, interdependence and non-separation.
When I look at it, I am reminded that I don’t exist independently from everything around me. My life depends on countless causes and conditions: other people, the environment, food, water, air and everything that has happened before this particular moment.
Nothing exists completely on its own.
Of course, this doesn’t mean that practical distinctions disappear. I am still me and you are still you. A tree is a tree and a bird is a bird.
If I need to hammer a nail into the wall, I will probably use a hammer rather than my laptop. And if I am eating pasta, I will probably use a fork rather than the hammer.
Distinctions are useful!
But the circle reminds me that distinction does not necessarily mean complete separation.
Then there is the empty space inside the circle.
For me, this brings to mind the Buddhist teaching of emptiness, or śūnyatā.
Emptiness can sound rather mysterious, but one way I find useful to approach it is through the absence of anything fixed or permanent.
My body changes. Thoughts change. Emotions change. Circumstances change. What seems enormously important today may feel completely different tomorrow.
Even the person I call “me” is continually changing.
When I look at the empty space in the ensō, I sometimes use it as a reminder not to hold too tightly to whatever happens to be appearing.
This thought is here now.
This emotion is here now.
This situation is here now.
What happens next?
I don’t know.
The circle and the empty space together also remind me of something else that I find interesting in Zen: the relationship between the absolute and the relative.
There are countless individual things, people and experiences. At the same time, none of them exists independently from everything else.
One does not necessarily have to cancel the other.
The many are still many.
And the circle is still one circle.
I don’t pretend to have resolved this intellectually. Perhaps that is another reason I like the ensō. I can simply look at it and allow the question to remain open.
The ensō in my house has also become a very practical reminder.
Because of where it hangs, I often see it when I leave the house. Sometimes it reminds me to pay attention to how I am about to meet the world.
How am I going to act?
How am I going to speak?
What is happening in my mind?
Of course, most of the time I probably walk straight past it without thinking about any of this.
But sometimes I notice it.
And perhaps that is enough.
A circle on the wall can become a small reminder to practise.
In a moment we are going to practise walking and sitting meditation together.
As we practise, thoughts will appear. Emotions will appear. Sensations will appear and disappear.
We don’t necessarily have to follow everything or push anything away.
Perhaps we can leave some space around what appears.
Walk when walking.
Sit when sitting.
Breathe.
And when something arises, notice it.
The ensō is a circle.
There is also an open space.
Perhaps we don’t always need to fill it.
Thanks for listening.
