Zen Buddhism developed in China around the 5th century BC. It was not until the 12th century that Zen – in a slightly different form – also reached Japan. It is said that anyone who attempts to explain Zen is doomed to failure. But anyone who tries to experience Zen can only succeed. This wisdom that forms the basis of Zen cannot be defined – the mysteries of life can only be lived.
Zen gardens radiate a special feeling of calm. Designed with the utmost precision and planned down to the last detail, they focus on the totality of existence. Sand and gravel symbolise water. Trees are symbols of the state of being human. Moss represents old age, which is revered in Japan. Blossoming and fading, meanwhile, vividly express the transience of life.
Every Zen garden tries to encapsulate the character of a specific place and to correspond to the essence of nature. The principle is to reduce everything to the bare essentials and to attain simplicity of form, line and material – and by achieving harmony and balance thus create a garden that appeals equally to the mind and the senses and gives us energy.
There is not only one path to Zen, but many. In the long history of Buddhism, different schools of Zen have developed. Each follows its own path, and has its own Zen masters. But the aim is always the same: to lead the seeker through the totality of cosmic consciousness to a state of inner harmony.
There are four basic rules on the path to Zen. Followers must show respect and appreciation for all things and beings. Harmony and peace should reign. And they must strive to attain inner and outer purity. If these three principles are successfully adhered to, followers of Zen proceed to the fourth principle and achieve a state of peace and inner reflection.
“The eternity within each moment” is one way to translate the word Zen. It means concentrating on the moment, turning inward and being centred. This ability to forget oneself in a state of total concentration has a meditative character in Zen. The past and the future merge in the present moment. What counts is the immediate now – a moment full of timelessness and strength.
In a Zen rock garden there are neither plants nor water, only gravel, stones and rocks – and sometimes moss. The arrangement of the stones reflects the randomness of nature; symmetrical patterns are avoided. The water element is represented by straight lines in the gravel. For Zen monks, raking these lines without forming a beginning or an end is a deeply meditative activity.
