In this inspiring and incisive offering, Barry Magid uses the language of modern psychology and psychotherapy to illuminate one of Buddhism's most powerful and often mysterious the Zen koan. What's more, Magid also uses the koans to expand upon the insights of psychology (especially self psychology and relational psychotherapy) and open for the reader new perspectives on the functioning of the human mind and heart. Nothing Is Hidden explores many rich themes, including facing impermanence and the inevitability of change, working skillfully with desire and attachment, and discovering when "surrender and submission" can be liberating and when they shade into emotional bypassing. With a sophisticated view of the rituals and teachings of traditional Buddhism, Magid helps us see how we sometimes subvert meditation into just another "curative fantasy" or make compassion into a form of masochism.
I wonder why there are no bad books on Buddhism, or Zen, or even “mindfulness” for that matter. Has anyone else noticed that? It seems quite common to see complaints about a novelist’s work, or even that of poets. Their attempts at creativity can receive crushing reviews. I have even seen works rejected due to the author’s use of commas. But, somehow, no books on Zen and Buddhism seem to receive this treatment? This is strange. Why does this happen?
My two cents worth: People like comfortable truths. Things they can relate to. That can confirm their prejudices and predilections. They especially like those insights that only stretch them in comfortable, reassuring ways. This explains the rise in zenfotainment™. That is, books offering comfortable platitudes that fit the broad expectations of our time and culture; books that don’t really challenge us. Dharma undiluted, undressed, not camouflaged with reassuring stories, without the frilly bits, does not sell many books. Dharma is subtle. It is also very simple, very direct, and uncompromising; uncompromising in the manner of the breeze through the bedroom window, and birdsong at dusk.
Dr Magid is an engaging writer, and throughout Nothing is Hidden he makes some good and interesting points; points any Zen teacher worth her salt would make, however his presentation of koan practice and what this represents is compromised by superficiality. It is zenfotainment™ .
Nothing is Hidden does not seem to offer anything more substantial than what has appeared in his previous books. In addition his comments on koan practice suggest that he is not familiar, nor proficient with traditional koan training. As a result he misunderstands and misrepresents this practice.
Koan practice is experiential. It is challenging. It requires an honesty of inquiry, and courage to set aside our usual cognitive crutches. It strikes to the heart of the stories we tell about ourselves and the world. In contrast Dr Magid simply makes up more stories about koan, when an important function of this practice is to simply set these stories aside.
Admittedly the experiential nature of koan practice makes it is very difficult to write about it in any meaningful way for a general audience without causing confusion, or ending up being misleading. Writing about koan practice is like trying to explain to someone how to balance when riding a bike. Your explanation will never really explain how to do it, but once a person experiences this for themselves they understand immediately what you were trying to say. However in Nothing is Hidden Dr Magid does not seem so much to lead us to experience but to try to explain koan. His approach appears to be largely intellectual. He tends to psychologize koan study, adding a layer of intellectual or verbal gloss to it that is counter to the cutting through of bullshit and story that koan study requires.
In short he fails to tell us much about koans, or the psychology of koans. Nothing is Hidden failed to address how mainstream psychology (academic psychology, experimental psychology, and yes Cognitive Behavioural Psychology) might relate to koan, and koan practice. Strangely while attempting to psychologize koan study that broad psychological view of koan work was clearly not the purpose of the book (which is just as well), however the title can give a misleading impression. Therefore readers should be wary regarding their expectations.
Koans are difficult to grasp for those not familiar with working with them. In the best parts of the book Dr Magid points to how working with koans can help us to loosen the hold of our conceptualised self; the work of any good Zen teacher. However, this is not the main thrust of the book. That appears to be firstly to describe how koan practice is deficient. I believe he fails to make this argument. His evidence seems to be that some Zen teachers are manipulative self-centred assholes (not his words but it is the gist of the argument) therefore koan study is flawed. His second and possibly main point is that he believes Zen teachers would benefit, or indeed need psychotherapy in order to offset the deficiencies in their training and character. I found this latter idea surprising as I was unaware that psychotherapists were less prone to character faults, and the manipulation of others than the rest of us. And I have met a few over the years.
Reading this book, and thinking of some other popular writing on Zen made me wonder whether any therapist should become a Zen teacher. There seems to be a real risk of therapists trying to psychologize koan work, and Zen. To make them fit within our view of the world and how things work. It seemed to be what was happening in this case. And this is inappropriate. The result was neither psychology or Zen, nor a hybrid of the two. I got the impression that Dr Magid was struggling to integrate two traditions he held dear, and he failed. At times I felt the case he was making demonstrated what he might call the joint “curative fantasies” that koan work will somehow automatically makes us different, or better, and that psychotherapy would do the same. As he points in the book, at least in relation to koan practice, that ain't necessarily so. Koan practice can certainly allow, support, facilitate, and prompt such transformations, but I think you also need to work at it. Psychotherapy may be helpful for some, and not for others. But insights alone do not change people. Changing what you do is what is required.
As a therapist myself I can understand this impulse to try and understand the practice in terms of psychology and theory. How does one very important aspect of my life relate to the other? How do I truly integrate this practice in to my life? Or, much less helpfully in Dr Magid’s case how do I understand Zen practice in intellectual terms, terms that fit with my world view and intellectual heritage. The result of adding of more stories about our practice is certainly unhelpful. It is not Zen.
We are the fruits of our experience, our practice, our training. Not just our Zen or Buddhist training. Dr Magid's training is evident in his writing. Probably as mine is here. Readers unfamiliar with the wider world of Zen and the wider world of psychology should be aware that his is one view, and a very limited one at that.
Nothing is Hidden will not be helpful in understanding koans for those already familiar with koan practice, and it will be confusing and unhelpful for those new to koans, and to Zen. Which is a shame as Dr Magid's other work seems to reflect a kind and knowledgeable teacher, most of the time.
If you are interested in the “psychology” of koan practice I suggest The Zen Teachings of Huang Po, or the Roaring Stream, or perhaps even Zen Master Raven. But leave this book alone.
Nothing Is Hidden is about the way Zen connects to psychotherapy and psychoanalysis, the way these disciplines complement and inform each other. It examines koans in light of the way they illuminate various aspects of the psyche. Barry Magid himself is a Zen teacher and psychoanalyst, also a man grounded in modern Western philosophy and literature. He’s as likely to quote Heidegger and Witgenstein as one of the ancient teachers.I was similarly moved by Barry Magid’s book.
My experience of psychotherapy came before I encountered Zen or any other kind of Buddhism. I had finished years of intense therapy with a man named Victor Zinn and was heading to Cambridge to be with my future wife while she was in Divinity School. I asked Victor what he thought I should do in Cambridge, other than write, and he said, I think you should study a Martial Art. Master a Martial Art. I didn’t do that (it was a very Victor piece of advice; he was extremely physical). But I did begin studying Buddhism and eventually Soto Zen, a body-oriented practice.
Magid has a complicated relationship with koans. He practiced initially with Eido Roshi in New York, then in the tradition of Maezumi Roshi, two famous Zen teachers who were masters of koan practice but not renowned for mastering their personal behavior. Magid’s eventual teacher, Joko Beck, after having practiced with koans for years, said that “koans simply failed to address emotion in any meaningful and significant way.” Her brand of Zen is psychologically oriented, but encourages us to face our own personal experience, especially our moment by moment physical experience. I was drawn to Beck’s teaching from the moment I encountered it. Magid’s teaching is a more intellectual and psychoanalytically informed version of that.
I don’t know whether he actually trained with Koans, but like many Soto teachers, he sees the koan stories as opportunities for study, illustrating various aspects of human experience. He has a fascinating take on all of that, and shows how these ancient stories inform our practice. But he has a large view of things, and is as likely to quote Western philosophy and the therapist he studied with most, Heinz Kohut, as any Zen teacher.
I was especially struck by the ending of his book. Here is how he opens his final chapter:
“We end where we began, looking in the mirror, saying this is me. Looking out the window at the wide world, saying this is me. At the beginning of a traditional psychoanalysis, the patient is told to simply say whatever comes to mind. When, after years of evasion, shame, self-editing, denial, self-criticism, and self-aggrandizement, the patient can finally follow this simple rule, the analysis is over.” Psychoanalysis sounds very much like Zen practice. But is the patient through?
Actually, no. The point of zazen, as Dogen pointed out (in a rather mysterious phrase) is to “drop off body and mind,” but as Magid says, “Dropping off body and mind must be reacted in Zen endlessly, and as Kodo Sawaki said, the dropping off of body and mind is inseparable from the activity of zazen. Our psychological insights can deliver us from being frozen in an inner world of self-hate, but our characters will quickly congeal if the insight is not exercised every day thereafter. No amount of insight (on the couch or on the cushion) into the origins of our overeating, drinking, compulsive or avoidant behaviors will make the habits of a lifetime simply dissolve.”
That has been my experience. The insights are vital, but they don’t fundamentally change us. The only thing that does (and there’s nothing final about it) is persistent daily practice. Zen practice continues until death (and possibly beyond). Zen allows for that, but psychoanalysis does not. People expect analysis to cure you at some point, and think that if you continue for too long there’s some kind of co-dependency going on. Magid doesn’t agree. He thinks it should continue endlessly.
It gets pricey, though. My sister did analysis on three occasions, with three separate people. The last one helped her through her death, at age 70. But I know she had trouble financing it.
This was the first book that I won for a First Reads giveaway! I entered the giveaway knowing that I am a beginner when it comes to zen teachings, but having some experience with psychology having studied it in school. I was thus worried that it would go a bit over my head, but hoped that my knowledge base would make up for it. I was both right and wrong. This book proclaims itself to be about the psychology of the zen koans, but it read more like a history of them, along with a deep contemplation of what they mean in the modern world. The psychology aspect of it seemed more tacked on, a few sentences here and there that more clarified Magid's background rather than adding much to the points he was making. That said, I didn't feel like it went over my head despite being a beginner to such schools of thought. Magid manages to make his explanations quite accessible, and I found myself pausing after some paragraphs to really let a lesson sink in, and I felt in those moments that he was really making an impression on me.
Some of his points do assume an established knowledge of zen. I wish I could rate Nothing is Hidden 3.5 stars, but I don't know if that would be fair to the book. I think it would be more fair to say that it isn't for everyone. I think those who have truly studied zen will find great value in these pages. I definitely found value in them, but there were parts that were harder for me to digest. It is a book that I would generally recommend if only for those moments of clarity it brings, teaching how to apply the idea of zen to the typical modern daily life.
[Edit: It came to my attention via James' comment that Nothing is Hidden contains some inaccuracies. Though I am going to leave my review, as it comes from my own perspective as someone who admits only beginner's knowledge in zen, I suggest looking at his comment and reading his own review, which can be found here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...]
A fascinating read that reaches great insights at times; and then other times seems like a foray into psychoanalysis that was less interesting to me.
The book is a little misleading in that it really isn't about koans. Don't turn to this book if you're looking into insight into how to study koans. Each chapter begins with a short koan which is really just an excuse for the author to share his thoughts derived from years of Zen and psychoanalytic practice.
A look at how Zen koans can be used in conjunction with psychological practice. He brings up a lot of good, honest points about issues in both Zen and psychological practice, as well as Zen communities. Best when he's speaking more generally; worst in the parts where he gets a bit mired in psychoanalyst speak (since he is a psychoanalyst as well as a Zen teacher) and becomes less accessible.
Rather than revealing how koans WORK on a psychological level (what I hoped to read), this book looks at koan after koan and finds each lacking (in theory or practice) without the added tools of psychotherapy. At one point, it seems to imply that only a genius at enlightenment, like the Dalai Lama, can forego psychotherapy without harm. Note: I am not a psychotherapy hater.
Some really wonderful insights into the ways koan study and psychoanalysis complement each other, but heavy handed at the end in terms of what Magid sees as the "correct" way of doing things.
This is another -and rather successful attempt to explore Zen concepts and modern psychology in light of each other. Unlike other things I've read about either subject, it starts with a wonderful premise: we are already perfect, just as we are, regardless of foibles, ids, and attitudes; and that this perfection calls for a self-acceptance, the understanding of which justifies and guides our meditations, actions, and worldview.
The author crams a lot into his 200 pages. Most if it is clear and practical (given the subject). At times the writing becomes a little bogged down on itself; and perhaps too much time is taken decrying sex abuse scandals that have arisen in the Zen community as the result of a bad confluence of student needs, teacher arrogance, and misunderstood motives for pursuing Zen study. In the end, it is the ideal of self-acceptance, and the healthy surrender to life that is its corollary, that made the book for me a helpful and enjoyable read.