Zen and it's Influence
on the Japanese Garden
There have been other philosophies that have found their way into the
garden. Persia had its paradise gardens. Descartes theories of a mathematical
ordering of the universe were clearly defined by Versailles’s geometric
layout. But rarely has any one philosophy had such a clear and defined
impact on a garden style as the indelible mark left by Zen on the Japanese
garden. While many of the stylings now thought of as Zen had their roots
in earlier forms, it was the discipline of Zen thought that helped give
them the ageless quality we associate with the Japanese garden.
A (very) Brief History of Zen in Japan
Zen is thought of as a very Japanese philosophy, yet its roots go back
all the way to India. A monk from India by the name of Bohdidharma came
to China around 500 A.D. to spread the Dharma (word of Buddha). Along
the way he had obviously become acquainted with Taoism, and this colored
his brand of Buddhism, called Cha’an by the Chinese, Son by the
Koreans and eventually Zen in Japan.
Bohdi married the strict self reliance of the Tao to the meditative practices
of Buddhism, creating a more disciplinary form of practice (He also started
a monastery at Shao-Li, and is credited with inventing Shao-lin Kung-Fu;
obviously a very tough character…). While Buddhism had already made
its way to Japan around 600 A.D., Zen took nearly another 300 years to
make the trip. Heian Period Japanese temples were a retirement home for
high officials and a seat of political power. Not surprisingly, retired
emperors, princes, and dukes were slow to embrace austerity as a way of
life. Not until the rise of the warrior caste did Zen become a staple
of religious thought in the island kingdom.
The Sengoku Jidai, or period of great unrest, brought the rise of the
samurai and bushido, the way of the warrior. The samurai was a kind of
knight, expected not to just hone the skills of war, but to appreciate
poetry, painting and all the fine things in life. Yet he was a warrior
first, and discipline is the soldier’s way. Zen could not have found
a more fertile ground to plant its seeds. The reliance on one’s
self to achieve enlightenment through stern practice meshed well with
the practice disciplines of bushido, and as the samurai and their retainers
adopted the new religion, Zen flourished throughout Japan.
Temple Construction and it's byproduct: The Zen Garden
As new temples were constructed (in some cases with funds from further
Chinese trade), the priests put in gardens. Some priests actually began
wandering the country trading their services as garden builders. These
ishi-tate so, or stone-setting priests, were the first “professional”
gardeners of Japan. They were influenced by the Sung painting style of
the period, an ink on paper style that was more influenced by capturing
the spirit of something than photographical representation. The subtlety
of black, white, and shades of grey found its way into the garden in the
karesansui (“dry water”) style most associated with Zen (While
the raked gravel had existed before Zen, it was always a side note. The
ishi-tate-so made it the main theme of the garden).
Enduring Principles of Zen upon the Japanese Garden
As Japan settled down and new intrinsically Japanese forms of Buddhism
sprang up, Zen began to fade in importance and the Meiji Edicts suborned
it entirely. But the principles it embraces are what set Japanese gardens
apart. Let’s look at these principles…
The Zen Aesthetic
There are six basic aesthetic principles embraced by Zen…
- Fukinsei
Asymmetry is intrinsic to Buddhist thought. There is no perfection in
the world; imbalance is what creates all movement and energy. The exact
center is never occupied, not in gardens or paintings or even when you
pot a bonsai. This does not jibe with our western traditions of symmetry
in all things, balanced, if so on the left then also on the right, so
it is a difficult idea for westerners to embrace…
- Kanso
Simplicity is a key tenet of Zen. Embracing the everyday, unadorned
things in life is to embrace truth. The cleanliness of simple form is
a repeated motif in Japanese art, be it painting, flower arranging,
or gardening. It is often expressed as wabi-sabi, which we
will discuss later. Wabi-sabi also relates to…
- Koko
Venerability. Maturity with an edge of austerity is a hallmark for Zen
thought. The patina on an old stone lantern, the feeling that a stone
has always been in the garden, or the bleaching of weathered wood are
all examples of this principle. It also implies resraint and selection;
this is the stern discipline of Zen practice appearing in the garden…
- Yugen
Subtlety and mystery is found throughout Zen thought, in the puzzling
koans or teaching questions, or in the constant search for personal
enlightenment, certainly the most elusive mystery of all times. Probably
the most prevalent element of yugen in the garden is the use of miegakure,
or “hide and reveal”, where the whole garden is not shown
through a window, just a small piece. Or a bend in the path offers just
the barest of hints of what waits around the corner. The play of shadows
on the garden is another display of yugen (“darkness”).
- Datsoku
A single word translation is poor here, but otherworldliness comes close.
It is the sense of a fantasy realm, a transcendence of this plane of
existence that is so much part of the Japanese garden. There should
be a sense of surprise, of wonder at the garden, what Shunryu Suzuki,
the founder of American Zen, called “beginners mind” or
what we often call child-like wonder. As Zen maintains that everything
is illusion, this is a very important concept…
- Seijaku
Stillness is probably the most central tenet of Zen. From silent meditation
to arrival at the “still point” or enlightenment, this principle
the peace and calm that a well done Japanese garden engenders. Bringing
different landscape features (that also display Fukinsei, or imbalance)
into harmony to achieve equilibrium is the true secret to this art.
Shibui
All these different elements combine to create shibui. While
the literal translation might be elegant, this only begins to scratch
the surface of the words true meaning. It also denotes an almost hidden
beauty, a simple restrained use of materials, color or elements to best
express the craftsman’s or artist’s intent. It often incorporates
wabi-sabi as an element of design. These are usually linked ideas in Japanese
thought.
Wabi
Wabi can refer to a way of life, the introspective, philosophical side
of things. It is the crack in the old teapot that sets it apart from a
thousand others of that same design, the everyday wear marks on the handle
of your grandfather’ shovel. Wabi is most concerned with space…
Sabi
Sabi is the artistic way of looking at things, a more light-hearted, aesthetic
view. It is the moss grown over the roots and stones, the gnarled plum
bough abloom with flower before anything else. Sabi is the element of
time showing itself…
Wabi-Sabi & the Japanese Tea Garden
The first tea master, Sen no Rikyu, proposed a different aesthetic as
a replacement for the ostentatious stylings of the Momoyama Period (sometimes
referred to as the Japanese Rococo). Simple, even rustic peasant-like
settings replaced the red-lacquered bridges and cut stone hardscapes as
the tea garden or Roji (literally “Dewy path”) became the
new garden of choice. While tea had become a pastime of the rich (despite
the fact that it too had been introduced by Zen monks), Rikyu adopted
the wabi-sabi style to his vision of the tea garden and the ceremony.
Rather than a chance to show off expensive antique teapots (as had become
the rage among the newly affluent merchant class), Rikyu saw teaism as
a wabi-sabi affair, a purifying ritual. As his most famous poem suggests…
Since the Dewy Path
Is that way that lies outside
This most impure world
Shall we not on entering it
Cleanse our hearts of earthly mire?
Rikyu was most focused on the wabi side of tea; it was his student Kobori
Enshu that began to introduce the sabi to the tea ceremony. As the times
relaxed and war became a distant memory, Enshu began to use more elegant
vessels and tools and display some variance in Rikyu’s original
ceremony. When he was told by one noble that he surpassed Rikyu as everyone
liked his pots and tools while Rikyu’s tattered and worn tools made
some uncomfortable Enshu replied
“Rikyu decided that certain vessels were interesting and beautiful
and satisfying on his own initiative and authority and used them for
Cha-no-yu and gave names to them, and his judgment was not only accepted
in his day but is still praised as a criterion.
This is because of Rikyu’s great merit as a Tea Master, and not
because of the age or value of the vessels. Articles so transformed
by virtue of the master’s praise are famous and precious indeed.
But as for me I don’t possess the capacity for giving real value
to anything on the authority of my own taste. When noblemen bring things
to me and ask for an opinion I don’t care to offend them and so
am inclined to say what they want to hear. But this kind of consideration
is not in accordance with the best traditions of tea. There is a difference
of Heaven and Earth between Rikyu’s lofty principles and mine.”
Zen Symbology in the Garden
There are myriad displays of Zen thought in the Japanese garden.
Nearly every design element in the repertoire has some tie-in to the ancient
philosophy. While this is not intended as a complete listing (best left
to more scholarly types) I will try to touch on some key features as examples
Stones
Ishi (Stones) Shumisen (also known as Horai) was the immovable mountain
at the center of the universe in early Buddhist thought and was one of
the first stones incorporated in Japanese gardens. The three stone arrangement
known as the Sanzon-ishi-gumi is an often used arrangement depicting the
Buddha and nyorai, or lesser buddhas. There is often a large flat stone
set in the forefront of a garden known as the Rei-hai-seki, or Worshiping
Stone (it is always set facing the Sanzon-ishi-gumi).
The mizu wake, or water dividing stone, set in the water at the bottom
of a waterfall was symbolic of the mythical carp that, through steadfast
unwavering effort, climbed to the top of the waterfall to become a dragon,
a regular teaching parable in the Soto Zen monastery. And the repeated
symbology of mountains as represented by set stones (“deep mountains,
mysterious valleys”) is very reminiscent of Dogen's ‘Mountains
and Waters’ sermon, where he likens all the goings on in the universe
to walking mountains (the Sakuteiki, or Book of Garden, allows that if
“some stones flee others should chase”). Design suggested
by philosophy…
Water
Mizu (Water) Buddhism always considered water the most apt metaphor for
human existence, springing up, gathering strength in its downhill race
to disappear calmly into the sea (reborn again as rain). In ponds in the
garden it creates “negative” space in the garden where nothing
else resides. This reflects the teaching of mu, or nothingness, that sought
after goal of Zen meditation (mu is the counter-balance to everything).
White gravel (Shirakawa suna) areas, as seen in karesansui gardens, are
also representative of this “ocean” space. All waterfalls
over two feet tall symbolize the Fudo, a fierce guardian of Buddhist thought,
especially meditation. The dripping of water in the shishi-odoki (deer
scare) is a measure of time in the garden, each clack a reminder of the
moment. And as found almost everywhere in the world, water is a symbol
for cleansing and purification, as seen in the Western tradition of baptism
or the hand washing in the Roji, among other traditions.
Shokubutsu (Plantings)
Zen actually pared down the plant palette when it arrived (there was use
of annuals, perennials, and grasses before the arrival of Zen stylings).
Still there are a few Zen ideas in the plantings. Large bamboo are often
found in temple gardens as the canes are a perfect example of the principle
of mushin or “empty heart” (the empty heart provides strength
through flexibility). Plums are a recurrent Zen theme, flowering without
leaf, often while snow is still on the ground (symbolizing resilience
and rebirth). Pine is known as mutsu, a sound-alike for the word for ‘waiting’,
so it is set in the garden as a symbol of strength and patience (key tenets
of the Soto-shu school of Zen, who taught gradual enlightenment through
meditation). All three are often found together, especially at New Year,
and are called “Three Friends of Winter”.
Hashi (Bridges)
In earlier gardens these often led to the nakajima (central island) representing
the Pure Land of Amida Buddha. Passing over the bridge was analogous to
passing from one world to the next. As Zen influence came into the forefront,
bridges took on the more Taoist meaning of passing from the world of man
into the world of nature, a move from this plane to a higher one. As suggested
by the Roji, the journey is representative of life in general, and the
bridge is just a symbol of transition on many levels.
Tenkeibutsu (Ornaments)
Most of the ornamentation in the garden springs directly from religious
tradition. While Buddhas are not common garden features outside of temples,
lanterns have become symbolic of the gardens themselves, despite the fact
that these were not found outside a temple garden until Rikyu adopted
their use in the Roji (many of the lantern styles are named after tea
masters). Parts of the lantern are purely Buddhist; the hoju (jewel) on
top of the lantern is a direct symbol of enlightenment (as are lanterns
in general); many use a lotus motif at that base or just under the firebox
(the lotus is a symbology actually used by Buddha himself in teaching).
Stupas are also found in gardens and point to heaven to show the way to
dead souls. The tea basin is the repository for purifying water, again
a symbol of life. Occasionally you may see a Frog figurine in gardens.
This is Basho’s frog from the famous poem on his own enlightenment,
Old pond
Frog jumps in
Splash!
The splash was Basho’s sudden burst of realization and representative
of sudden enlightenment, as espoused by the Rinzai sect of Zen. Kakis
to hei (Fences) While not a totally Zen concept, fences are the best chance
to actually inject some artistry into the garden without resorting to
overt ornamentation. A well chosen fence sets off the plants well, marries
the garden to the architecture and most importantly, encloses the space,
creating another world.
This fits seamlessly with the Zen concept of perception; how entire worlds
can be contained in motes of dust or dew drops. Enlightenment comes from
discerning reality as one’s own perception and balancing that against
one’s place in the grand scheme Dogen says,
“Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on water. The moon
does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide
and great, the moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide. The
whole moon and entire sky are reflected in dewdrops on the grass, or
even in one drop of water.”
The message here is that every divided area remains representative of
the whole of nature; the fence helps us to recognize the division and
the garden should remind us of the whole. The gates in fences are very
much like the bridge in deep meaning; the phrase “to go through
the gate” is a metaphor for becoming a monk. Transition between
one state of existence and the next is a recurrent theme in both Zen and
the Japanese gardens, further evidence of the immutable ties between them.
There are those who, attracted by grass, flowers, mountains, and
waters, flow into the Buddha Way.
Eihei Dogen
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