Dirty water and ultimate questions
Anguk Zen Center offers foreigners the
Zen path to enlightenment

"The mind," says Master Subul, in an example of the wonderful analogies that pepper Eastern thought, "is like a glass of dirty water. The aim of most Buddhism is to clear the water by having the dirt sink to the bottom of the glass. The problem is that should the glass be shaken, the dirt will rise again. So in Zen Buddhism, the aim is to get rid of the dirt altogether."

ith this verse, the 6th Century Indian monk Bodhidarma attempted to convey the essence of the Zen school of Buddhism. In offering a direct and personal path to enlightenment, Zen was a reaction against traditional forms of Buddhism, which had become laden with head-spinningly opaque scriptures. Indeed, because Buddhism had grown into such a metaphysical monster, access to the religion's "truth" was often denied to all but those able to devote their whole lives to monastic study. Zen, by contrast, made enlightenment a goal attainable by anyone willing to learn from a good teacher.
   On a bright, crisp February afternoon, a modern-day Zen monk is carrying on a hallowed tradition by explaining the basic tenets of Zen to this layman. "The purpose of Zen is to find the single source, or truth, behind everything," says Master Subul in his home in northern Seoul. "Truth is common and universal and always with us," he adds reassuringly. In fact, much about Master Subul puts you at ease: the clean-shaved head that looks severe on some Buddhist monks suits him perfectly; and his smooth face, which betrays few signs of his 54 years, is constantly etched with a smile.
   The mind," he continues, in an example of the wonderful analogies that pepper Eastern thought, "is like a glass of dirty water. The aim of general meditation is to clear the water by having the dirt sink to the bottom of the glass. The problem is that should the glass be shaken, the dirt will rise again. So in Zen Buddhism, the aim is to get rid of the dirt altogether."
   As he speaks, Master Subul repeatedly tries to dispel what he feels to be abiding misconceptions about the practice and purpose of Buddhism. Many people, he says, pray to depictions of the Buddha for health or good fortune, which is totally missing the point. "Although such idols can be a useful tool in leading people toward the truth, the real purpose behind Buddhism is not idol worship, but attaining enlightenment. Once you have found that, you can see a whole new world that is invisible to the eye. It is this aspect of Buddhism." explains Master Subul, that sets it apart from other religions. "Christianity is more of an end in itself," he says, "that is, the point of Christianity is to worship God. Buddhism is more of a means to an end; the end being finding the eternal truth."

Solving the ultimate question

   Since opening his first Zen center in Busan in 1989, Master Subul has added two more-one in New York, and another here in Seoul. According to the Korean centers' website, a total 3,000 people arrive each day to attend one of the thrice-daily sessions. Though weekday sessions are held in Korean, the center is keen to bring foreigners on board, and offers a session in English on Saturday afternoons. "Westerners," says Master Subul, "typically pick up what I teach faster than Asians. Westerners tend to be more flexible and open to new ideas." And Master Subul seems to be well aware of Westerners' purported penchant for instant gratification; "It is possible to clear all poisons from the mind in just three to seven days, if you are guided by a good master." How does one go about getting started? "On your first few visits, you will just attend the session. But after that, I will ask you a hwadu, or ultimate question."
   Ultimate question." The phrase alone may strike fear into the hearts of the uninitiated, conjuring up images of being asked to define the meaning of life, or why Korean police do nothing to stop motorcyclists riding on the pavement. In fact, it takes a far more mundane form. "Suppose I ask you," says Master Subul, raising his hand, "what sees my hand. If you answer your eyes, I say that the dead have eyes too. Do their eyes then see? If you answer your brain, again I say that the dead have a brain. Do their brains enable them to see? It is through thinking long and hard about questions like these that one is able to find the ultimate truth."
   After the interview with Master Subul, Eun Ahm, a retired finance worker and Vietnam veteran who now takes care of the Seoul center's publications, explains how he came to Buddhism.

"Christianity is more of an end in itself," he says, "that is, the point of Christianity is to worship God. Buddhism is more of a means to an end; the end being finding the eternal truth."

   I led a typical Korean worker's life; I drank almost every day after work, for example. I used to be a Christian, but I found it somehow unsatisfying. Eventually, my wife talked me into studying Buddhism." Eun Ahm's religious zeal is apparent, but it is less of the wild-eyed, fire-and-brimstone variety, than of the unassuming, laid-back one people usually associate with Buddhists. "After becoming a Buddhist, my personality changed, my lifestyle changed; everything changed."

Zen in English

   Master Subul's Anguk Zen Center lies in Ga-hoie Dong in Jongro Gu, northern Seoul. The location is fitting: local government restrictions on construction mean that the towering high-rises that clutter Seoul are conspicuously absent here. As a result, the area is relatively peaceful, and has developed a slightly offbeat, Samcheong-dong feel, with boutiques, attractive cafes and unusual shops-including an organic food grocer-dotting the main street. Today's session in English takes place in the center's main hall on the fourth floor. At its far end, a series of imposing bronze statues of Buddha lines the wall. But apart from that the room is suitably austere, with just a piano, a white board and piles of cushions interrupting the large, spotless wooden floor. The hall is certainly not unwelcoming, though. The under floor heating keeps the extremities warm as the session unfolds, and sun floods in through the grid-shaped windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. In quieter moments, the quacking of ducks can be heard.
   Far from being a rigid sermon, the session is breezy and informal, with today's speaker Lou Morrison, a 50-year-old art historian from the United States, throwing out questions to his audience from time to time. Morrison regales the 20 or so people gathered here-all but two of whom are actually Korean-with stories that he ties in with Buddhist precepts. A few years ago, following a painful divorce, Morrison found himself in Korea teaching English in Chungcheong province. As he struggled to get over his broken marriage, further misfortune struck. Morrison's boss, whom he describes as "a rather tough woman," found out he was teaching privately, and suspended him for a month. "I was at a loss," he tells the robed listeners, "Where should I go? What should I do?" By this point suffering from fairly relentless depression, he says, he decided to go to a nearby Buddhist temple, where he spent his days working on the surrounding grounds. Through physical toil and a series of talks with monks at the temple, Morrison says he came to see that desire, in his case for his ex-wife, was the source of his unhappiness. "Once I realized this," he says, "my anxiety and my depression just disappeared."
   Although the English-language session has been running for around a year, few foreigners attend as yet. This is a situation all at the center are keen to amend; the Koreans at today's session are here not just to discuss Buddhism, but to brush up their English skills so they will be better able to tell foreigners about Zen and the center.(A religious gathering doubling as an English lesson seems a peculiarly Korean way of doing things.) Morrison takes the sessions most frequently, but other luminaries, including Myong-hwa, a Buddhist nun from Poland who is also a regular attendee, are invited to speak too. Meditation, that staple of Zen practice, is also taught at the center. But like Zen itself, meditation is important only as a means to the end of gaining enlightenment. "Many foreigners imagine that meditation is about correct posture, breathing techniques and so on. But in fact, the key to meditation is the resolution of a hwadu," says Song Soo-kyoung, the head of the English sessions. "Some people are faster than others, but it took me two weeks before I found out the answer to my hwadu. I had to work hard to find the truth."
   Bodhidarma would have been proud.

To get to Anguk Zen Center, leave Exit 2 of Anguk Station, Subway Line 3, and start walking north toward the Constitutional Court. Keep going until you pass Kahoi Catholic Church. A Short walk past the church will bring you to the center, which is on the right side of the road. For more information, call the center at (02)3673-0772 or visit its website (www.angukzen.org).

Written By Niels Footman
Photographed by Ryu Seunghoo

The writer is a graduate student at Yonsei University and a copy editor at
the Joongang Daily newspaper. He comes from Edinburgh in the U.K.

*This article first appeared in the March 2006 issue of SEOUL.