Neural Buddhist

Exploring the intersection of Zen and neuroscience

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Where are we right now, in this moment? What is the nature of our reality? These are the kinds of questions that brought me to meditation, and Zen practice, but also to a career in science (specifically psychology and neuroscience).

On this site, my main focus is on the intersection of Zen Buddhist practice and science (especially neuroscience). Below, you can find links to recent posts about meditation practice, science, and how the two can offer complementary perspectives on how we can make sense of this life that we find ourselves in.

Wading into mindfulness

December 21, 2024

This year, I’ve been wading into mindfulness, and working to bring mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) to my local community.

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“There’s a flaw in my approach”

August 25, 2024

Traces of striving in meditation can be the source of many difficulties, and seeing this clearly has been essential for my own practice.

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Nurture peace in this broken world

January 2, 2024

When the world feels broken, we may fall into despair or become tangled in anger. How do we move forward, to help all beings?

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If you are new to the blog, welcome! I would recommend starting with a couple of the featured posts below, on the ways science can complement our meditation practice, and how metaphors can give us some insight into the nature of our lives.

Featured essays

Neon whirlpool

A meditation on the breath of our life

October 5, 2021

In our meditation practice, we hope to better see clearly the true nature of reality. But, what do we find when we attend closely to our self?

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Frosted zinnia

This life is a precious treasure

November 9, 2021

Our life is a precious treasure, but a fragile one. Like a whirlpool, each life persists only while conditions are favorable. This is natural, so why then do we lament?

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Electric eel

The invisible world beyond sensation

October 19, 2021

Meditation involves expanding our awareness of sensation. But, even as our practice matures, we are always surrounded by an invisible world, beyond our senses.

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And, if you enjoy these posts, you can sign up for our (at most) weekly newsletter, and we also post regularly on Instagram (@neuralbuddhist) and Facebook.

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neuralbuddhist

Neuroscientist and lay Zen practitioner interested in how meditation and science can help us to see more clearly the life we find ourselves in.

“We already have the tools to save this world – we just need to choose to do so. There is no turning back the clock; there is only this moment, filled with doubt and anxiety and promise.

There is no one coming to save us; only ourselves, imperfect, and powerful and imbued with responsibility. There are no perfect solutions; only endless bitter compromises, choices that dare us to reimagine what it means to live in this world with compassion.

There is so much that is wrong and so much worth saving.”

-Ethan Tapper, “How to Love a Forest”

I had the good fortune to come across this short book by Ethan Tapper this year (thanks to my father, who has worked tirelessly for years to restore his own small patch of forest). Tapper is pointing to the damage that has been done to the natural world, and to forests in particular, and offers a powerful, moving, and bittersweet call for us to make a difference in the world.

I very much appreciated this book, and saw in it that Tapper’s point was much broader than forests, that in spite of all of the ways that we can feel that the world is irrevocably broken, we can still aim ourselves towards healing the world around us. That we have a responsibility to act, and that we do have the tools to make a difference – in our lives, in those of our families, friends, communities, and beyond. As we head into the new year, I’ll keep Tapper’s call to live differently close to my heart.

As Tapper also wrote: “… there is nothing radical about doing what is easy and convenient and comfortable, nothing radical about doing nothing. I remind myself that what is truly radical is to do what is necessary to build a better world.”

Looking back, I haven't posted many new essays thi

Looking back, I haven't posted many new essays this year, in part due to the busyness of life. And, also because of a new(ish) project, wading deeper into teaching mindfulness in our local community.

This new post (the last of the year) looks back at where it all started, when I had the chance to do a summer research internship at the Center for Mindfulness at U Mass Medical Center back in '98!

https://neuralbuddhist.com/2024/12/21/wading-into-mindfulness/

Photo credit: "Calm Daylight" - Ryan Adams, flickr

There was an interesting research study in the new

There was an interesting research study in the news this past week, showing some evidence (from research in mice) of a circuit in the brain that helps to slow breathing and which can reduce anxiety. While it not exactly clear how this work would map on to our own (human) experience, this study gives some insight into how voluntarily taking a few slower, deeper, breaths can help to calm the mind.

Towards the end of this article, you might notice a quote from one of the researchers, that they hope to develop a "yoga pill" to bypass meditation and yoga practice to cultivate the fruits of practice. Personally, I think this is not a great goal (if one thinks of this research as a replacement for practice), but as something that might deepen our understanding of the physical underpinnings of practice in the brain.

News article: https://www.salk.edu/news-release/neuroscientists-discover-how-the-brain-slows-anxious-breathing/

Research article: Jhang, J., Park, S., Liu, S. et al. A top-down slow breathing circuit that alleviates negative affect in mice. Nat Neurosci (2024). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41593-024-01799-w

Image credit: Salk Institute

"There's a flaw in my approach." - Scott McCloud,

"There's a flaw in my approach." - Scott McCloud, "The Sculptor"

In my own meditation practice, part of me knows that we practice without a goal. We do not sit to improve ourselves or to have some transcendent experience. And yet, I have still noticed in my own practice the ways in which very subtle striving (the idea that I should feel a certain way, or should be moving towards some point) colors my practice, and seems to lead to challenges.

In a new essay (published in the latest issue of Midwest Zen), I share some of my own reflections on looking at striving in my practice, and I hope that someone may find these thoughts valuable for their own practice!

A link to this issue of MWZ in the latest post on my site (link in bio for neuralbuddhist.com), or https://www.greatwindzendo.org/mwz

Image credit: "Hand Sculpture" by Tambako the Jaguar (flickr), of a sculpture in Vaduz, Liechtenstein

Every year, I love hearing the cicadas singing in

Every year, I love hearing the cicadas singing in the summer. And, while I had been keeping a sharp eye out for the discarded husks, I really have not seen any until the start of July. Even now, I have come across very few, and these few photos capture all of the ones that I've been fortunate enough to come across.

But even though the shells have been quite scarce, it turns out that should not have lost faith, as the sound pulsating down from the trees in our neighborhood have grown quite loud at times. This deep and steady drone shows another generation has come, that the cicadas' long and quiet work was not wasted.

This reminded me a bit of an article that I read recently by Norman Fischer, in the summer issue of Buddhadharma magazine, about the faith that we should have in our commitment to living in a wholesome, ethical way, even if it seems that we do not personally benefit from each of our actions.

"... wholesome action and unwholesome action will produce their proper results in one way or another, and no one individual has a mind big enough to see the precise details of how this will play out. This means that although I can be certain that my wholesome action will have wholesome results, I cannot know precisely how or when."

When it seems like our own individual actions do not matter, that our efforts are pointless, remember the cicadas and how many small things can strengthen one another and come to fruition in their own time.

It struck me recently, how hard it can be to expre

It struck me recently, how hard it can be to express my condolences. Writing cards for colleagues who had lost loved ones recently, I found that the words just did not come easily. This is not a new difficulty for me: so many sympathy cards that I’ve bought sit around our house, unfinished, or never started.

So, if I’ve ever struggled or spoken clumsily at a time when you were going through a loss, know that all I ever tried to say is, “Our hearts are broken with you.”

And that must be true of so many people in our lives, that what we want to express seems to slip through our grasp. But if the people around you know you well, and care for you, I bet that they feel the same way. Even if they cannot find the words.

Image: A mushroom from our campus last fall. Like our own lives, mushrooms pop up, each one a mystery, and pass as conditions change.

"The flower freely gives its fragrance, beauty and

"The flower freely gives its fragrance, beauty and pollen. The bee gives its lifetime and energy, taking only as much as it needs for its own existence and giving the rest to its swarm... Neither flower nor bee has a concept of generosity. They arise from the whole universe and contribute to the whole of life."

-Jinryu Wachowitz, "The Flower of Dharma Gives Freely"

During this (very) cold week in Indiana, I have enjoyed looking back at the summer issue of Midwest Zen, including this beautiful reflection on interconnection by Jinryu Wachowitz.

Read the full article and find more of the Zen voices of the Midwest: https://simplebooklet.com/midwestzenissue4summer2023#page=35

Image credit: inryu Wachowitz

“… I could no longer clearly discern the physi

“… I could no longer clearly discern the physical boundaries of where I began and where I ended… I no longer perceived myself as a whole object separate from everything. Instead, I now blended in with the space and flow around me.” (Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor, My Stroke of Insight)

Many of the spiritual teachings that have been meaningful to me emphasize interconnection: that we do not exist alone and separate from the world, but in fact are deeply entwined with all of the world around us. And, at the extreme, that we can never really pin down an “I” which exists separately from the world around us.

Intellectually, it has been easy for me to appreciate these teachings. For instance, with every breath that we take, with our every meal or bodily elimination, the physical “stuff” that makes up our body is in constant flux. Every day, moment by moment, even our brains are constantly changing, adding new connections here and there, strengthening and weakening others. To live is a process – dynamic – not a thing.

But while that conceptual understanding of interconnection has been helpful to me, I have wondered about other teachings, that we can realize the truth of interconnection in a more direct way in our practice (and meditation practice). When I reflect on what that means, my mind turns to accounts like that of Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor, describing her experience of surviving a massive stroke in the left hemisphere of her brain. Or the detailed accounts of experiences with psychedelics. Or of experiences in meditation.

And, I don’t think we ever need to have an experience like this to take the teachings of interconnection to heart. As best I can, I’ve tried to appreciate my own experiences without being caught up in them or chasing some kind of special state.

What’s really important is if we can everyone and everything in our life as our self.

Image: Some mushrooms that we saw on a New Year’s Day hike, entwined with the decaying log and moss, and forest floor.

“… if we consider peace a condition in which t

“… if we consider peace a condition in which there is no war among countries, no fighting or conflict among people, and no pain, anxiety, or struggle in our minds, there will probably never be a time when such a condition can be completely achieved. Does this make peace a meaningless dream? Not at all. According to Dōgen, our efforts to achieve peace are themselves a source of peace in each moment of each step we take toward peace.” - Shohaku Okumura, "Realizing Genjokoan"

As we enter the new year, wishes for peace and joy can feel hollow in a world that feels broken by violence and suffering. How do we carry on, without falling into the traps of paralysis or outrage?

As Okumura writes, our efforts for peace are important, and we should not lose faith that every effort we make to live peacefully is a benefit to the world.

In a new post (link in bio), I share some thoughts about cultivating peace, and the lessons that I have taken from Hayao Miyazaki’s beautiful film, "Princess Mononoke."

Image credit: Forest Spirit (Shishigami) from "Princess Mononoke." Paper cut shadow box by Lorelei Schmitzer-Torbert (2020)

This week, we are wrapping up our semester with fi

This week, we are wrapping up our semester with final exams, and students in my Psychology of Mindfulness class have been presenting their final projects - examining the research around an area of mindfulness that is of interest to them.

They were given the choice of how to communicate their findings, and we saw a great range of infographics, podcasts, brochures, slide decks, and more. For me, it was a great experience to see common themes, or how students connected the course content to their own interests.

I'll share more of that work, but here is the title slide from senior Psychology major Joshua Manfred's talk, "Mindfulness for Guys" - As our institution has an all-male student body, is has been interesting to see how our group of 22 students responds to practices drawn from MBSR (body scans, sitting meditation, yoga). And most everyone found a practice that was interesting, or resonated with them.

But, it was also interesting to note the appetite among the group for more practices that involved physical activity and exercise. And, I think Mr. Manfred captured some part of that with his presentation, which looked at a selection of studies that explored outcomes in mindfulness-based interventions by gender, or by the dimensions of masculinity and femininity.

I don't know that I left the presentation feeling that mindfulness practices needed to be fundamentally altered for "guys," but I found the discussion to be very interesting. And, it is one that I'll keep in mind when teaching mindfulness practice in the future!

Many Zen centers are holding their Rohatsu session

Many Zen centers are holding their Rohatsu sessions this month, intensive meditation retreats that celebrate the Buddha's awakening. Falling at the end of our semester, participating in-person was not feasible for me. But, I was grateful for the option to join Sanshin virtually, and we set up a room here where members of our campus meditation group could drop in as they were able.

We only did one day of the sesshin, but I was greatful to find some time to practice together in this way.

#sanshinzencommunity #rohatsu

The finished zafu and zabuton set that I made for

The finished zafu and zabuton set that I made for my office. The zabuton is a bit too thin, and certainly there are a few things I will do differently next time, but it was a wonderful experience to make these cushions by hand.

Friday was the final day of Shohaku Okumura's ten-

Friday was the final day of Shohaku Okumura's ten-day virtual study of Dogen's Zazenshin. I was only able to attend about half of the lectures, but greatly appreciated Okumura Roshi's dedication to the study of Dogen, and to sharing his understanding. I believe the next virtual dharma study will be in May of 2024 (2-11) and would recommend it to any student of Zen and Dogen! #sanshinzencommunity

"Strokes are like snowflakes." - Doug Calisch I w

"Strokes are like snowflakes." - Doug Calisch

I was attending a yoga class on our campus the other day, when I learned that one of my colleagues, Doug Calisch, a retired art professor and skilled sculptor, was recovering from a stoke. I was saddened to realize that I had not known about his stroke. And, while he is still in the process of recovering, I was grateful to see that he was able to attend the yoga class.

In the interview, "Still Here," Doug talks about his new work, a piece that meditates on his experience of stroke and recovery. I would highly recommend it: I found it to be a very moving piece, and was very grateful to Doug for sharing his experience. And I wish him, and all others who are dealing with serious illness, the best as they meet and engage with their own recovery.

Image credit - "Stroke in Four Acts" - Doug Calisch

Interview: https://wetravelon.com/still-here/

To make a zabuton, I decided to make an insert, wh

To make a zabuton, I decided to make an insert, which will be white canvas and cotton batting, and then a black cover. This is the finished insert, before turning it right-side-out and inserting the cotton batting.

This past week, it seemed like I could still hear

This past week, it seemed like I could still hear a cicada here and there, and I assumed that the "season" was at an end. So, I was surprised, and happy, to find this little one on our sidewalk one morning.

The finished zafu cushion for meditation: I made a

The finished zafu cushion for meditation: I made a few mistakes here and there, and it may need some more kapok, but overall it was a fun project. Next up, a zabuton.

"What can I do to get in the way ... I mean, 'help

"What can I do to get in the way ... I mean, 'help'?"

I decided recently that it would be helpful to have another meditation cushion (zafu) and mat (zabuton), and thought it woudl be a fun project to sew them myself. So, I gathered some intstructions for zafus that I've had for years (in Uchiyama's Opening the Hand of Thought) and some others I found online.

I thought I had everything ready and in order, but did not budget for the "help" that our cat, Momo, wanted to offer =)

Is time all in our heads? Personally, this was n

Is time all in our heads?

Personally, this was not a question I had given much serious thought. Recently, though, I have been looking closer at our perception of time. And this week, I wanted to share a new article of mine, appearing on the Tricycle magazine website ("Letting Go of Time" - link in bio).

In general, I think that man of us see time as being stable, constant, reliable. But, our direct experience of time can be quite variable: time can seem to flow quickly, or slow to a crawl. Using my own background as a neuroscientist and my Zen practice, I feel that I can see more clearly how time – the time we actually live – depends on our brains.

And, reflecting carefully on time has been very helpful for me, personally, to cultivate a deeper, more authentic patience. To be more present in my own life. For that, I am very grateful.

Image credit: "Time" by Dominic Hargreaves (flickr)

The last couple of weeks, I’ve heard the droning

The last couple of weeks, I’ve heard the droning of the cicadas in the August heat. But until last week, I had not seen any of their husks. So, I was very happy to come across this one, not far from our home.

When our oldest daughter was young, she was fascinated by these shells, and we would collect them on our walk to preschool. I remember a small, zippered bag on her bicycle was full of them. And, we still have a jar of the ones she collected, tucked away on a high shelf.

As the school year begins, it seems that we find ourselves in a moment of transformation. This year’s cicadas, after long preparing, deep in the ground, are emerging from the earth. Emerging from their very own bodies, to claim their wings and to sing high up in the trees. Our daughter started college this week, far from her hometown. This too is the culmination of many years of preparation, and is itself an opportunity for deep transformation. Another way to fly, and to sing.

And the rest of us, her mother, her younger sister, and I – we step back into the classroom as students or educators, but also into a new year that holds its own opportunities for growth and change.

To allow ourselves the space to transform ourselves can certainly be frightening. To let go of some part of who we are, and commit ourselves to a new direction.

And it is also a wonderful freedom, to see that at any moment, really, we can let go and reach for a new way to see the world, and ourselves.

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