Nicely presents concepts in everyday terms without advocating (or disparaging) any religious viewpoints. The discussion of reincarnation, which differs significantly from what might be found in a more "traditional" Buddhism text, is particularly interesting.

This is one of those popular books on Buddhism which seeks to come at its subject from an original angle, presumably so that wisdom that has survived millennia can be commercially viable. In this case, the angle is revealed by the ambiguous title: easily misinterpreted as meaning 'Buddhism is not what you think [it is]', but properly explained in the book as meaning 'Buddhism is not [about] what you think' (but actually about letting go of thought). Yes, it's a clever smart-ass title, but a very well-written book by a knowledgeable practitioner of the Zen school. Although written in a plain accessible style, Hagen has drawn on plenty of authorities both from the Zen school and from Pali scriptures. And whereas some popular books on Buddhism get drawn into mystical mumbo jumbo, Hagen avoids this entirely, presenting Buddhist ideas and practice in an intelligent way that steers clear of all supernatural speculation. He even clears up the misunderstanding that the Buddha taught, and his followers believed in, reincarnation of the soul - easily done once it is understood that all things are impermanent, and that for the Buddhist, there is nothing like a soul that might survive death to be reincarnated. An enjoyable book from a very wise teacher.

Steve Hagen has done another great job of making some of the very intangible aspects of Buddhism (specifically Zen) much more tangible. Using duality to talk about non-duality is tricky business, but as shown here just like a well given dharma talk it can be done.

Maybe just me but it was hard to find information I could use in my daily life.

The best book about Buddhism. Fantastic.

I prefer quites over reviews:
53
According to Bodhidharma (and to Zen), if we make enlightenment—or enlightened people—into something special and set them apart from others and from ourselves, we abuse them. In the process, we also abuse ourselves. Thus enlightenment becomes remote, otherworldly, mysterious, and (seemingly) virtually impossible to realize.
Zen is about freeing ourselves from such deluded thinking.

57-58
Try to nail down what anything is. You can’t. It’s like trying to answer the question, “Is that you in your baby picture?” What can you say? You may say, “Yes, that’s me.” But obviously it is not. You’re not a baby. But can you say, “No”? Who is it in the picture, then?
And if you say, “That was me,” how could you still be you if you’re six times bigger and far more articulate? Indeed, what does “you” refer to? And if you say, “It’s both me and not me,” what can this mean? Have you ever seen anything that both is and isn’t what it is? And if it’s neither you nor not you, what are we even talking about? If we really look carefully, such simple, everyday questions as these can set our minds spinning.
There’s nothing absolute about our objects, ever, even though we usually think there is. We quietly assume a cup is a cup is a cup. But where can we draw the line between the cup and everything else? If you pay very close attention, you’ll see that you can’t.

68-69
The sound of the bell is inseparable from everything that came before and that will come after as well as from every- thing that appears now. This includes your eardrum, which vibrates in response to it. It includes the air, which pulses with varying waves of pressure in response to it. It includes the stick that strikes the bell. It includes the metallurgists, past and present, and those who learned to extract metal from ore and those who fashioned the bell. And it includes that ancient furnace, that supernova obliterated long ago in which this metal formed. Remove any of these—indeed, remove anything at all—and there can be no sound of the bell. The sound of the bell is thus not “the sound of the bell.” It is the entire Universe.

75-76
We can look deeper—to an awareness characterized by Thoreau’s famous quote: “In wildness is the preservation of the world.”
In the city, for better or worse, everything is planned. Every- thing is put there for some purpose—for good or ill, convenience or decoration.
Nature, on the other hand, is unintentional. Nature doesn’t try to do anything, produce anything, or accomplish anything. Nevertheless, nature does produce a great deal. But nature produces things in a radically different way than human beings generally do. Most human actions come out of our intentions, our desires, our attempts to bring about certain situations, and our yearning to prevent other situations from occurring. In contrast, what nature produces is without purpose, intention, or will. This is because there is nothing outside of nature for it
to act on or for or against.
So I would modify Thoreau’s words and say that in wild-
ness is not only the preservation of the world, but the revelation of the world.
Often we imagine that there ’s some particular thing or entity—God, say—that made the world and that now runs it. With such a notion in place, we soon start talking about this entity as if it had attributes like us—as if it had wants and de- sires. We talk of the “will of God.” Soon we’re developing ideas of how people should comply with God’s will.
But if we look carefully at this, we’ll discover that this is just our putting our ideas of God—that is, our will—onto un- willed nature, onto Reality. If we think of God—or whatever overarching principle we might have in mind—as being “out there,” we should realize that all we are doing is projecting our own attitude, our own view, our own small mind, on the world and on others.
The intention and will that we find surging within us, which all too often govern our minds and justify our motivations for doing this or not doing that, come about because we ’re locked up in our petty egos, because we forsake the Reality of the Whole. We see ourselves separate and removed from the Whole—and from everything else “out there.” Thus we feel compelled to do something about our situation, which only furthers our discontent.
We feel we have to protect this well-loved thing we call “me” or “I.” And we also want to please this I-creature. And so we find ourselves filled with longing and loathing.
This is delusion. It’s what most often characterizes our minds. We don’t recognize that our way out of such sorrow is simply to see—not to fix something “out there.”


98
Once this moment is seen for what it is, there ’s no more believing in a universe consisting of a tiny, isolated “you” that is distantly viewing everything “out there.” There’s no more need to protect and defend yourself against “out there” or to get, earn, or coax good things from it.
This is liberation, enlightenment, freedom of mind. It’s the very opposite of resignation; it’s the dissolution of the desire to get everything you want or to do whatever you please.
You already have the capacity to see Truth right now. You don’t (and can’t) get this capacity from another—not from me, from this book, from Buddha, or from anything or anyone else. How could you possibly get what you already have?
No one can pin you down; no one can call you back. Just as no one binds you, no one blinds you.

114-115
To act or not act is not the real question. For the awakened, what comes first is simply being awake—seeing what’s going on. And in seeing what’s going on in this moment, appropriate—that is, natural—action can occur.
Kuei-shan said, “Why interfere?” When we act out of see- ing, we are no longer interfering with the world; instead, we are operating the way the natural world operates—out of the Whole, out of Totality.
For the awakened the primary concern is simply to see what is taking place and to act in accord with it.
This is how the awakened differ from those of us who are caught up in delusion. It’s a very subtle, quiet, and gentle point, but its implications are total. Realizing this creates a complete transformation of heart and mind.
Enlightenment is nothing more than this: to be fully present, to see the grasping nature of our own minds, and not to act out of that grasping. It’s to see ourselves not as separate, not as lacking, not as in charge, not as weak and helpless.
When we ’re no longer acting out of a sense of self—out of our wants, our fears, our worries, our obsessions—we’re no longer being driven by the compulsion to arrange everything in a way that feels comfortable and satisfying.
The truth is, you’ll never succeed at getting things arranged just so. You’ll never live happily ever after. You’ll never please and protect yourself for more than a fleeting moment. In fact, if you look for it, you’ll never even put your finger on just what it is that you’re trying to please and protect. So why interfere?
If we look carefully at what’s going on in each moment, we’ll see there’s nothing we need to take hold of—indeed, there ’s nothing we can take hold of.
All of this doesn’t mean that we can’t or shouldn’t act. It doesn’t mean we can’t plan or think or believe or hold ideas. It does mean that we don’t have to be deceived by this or taken in by that.
For the awakened, motivation has shifted. The motive now is simply to be awake from moment to moment and to deal with every fresh and new situation as it arises. We step into each situation not knowing but with our eyes open to what’s actually taking place. We act from there. Seeing each new moment as it arises creates action that is in accord with how things are now.

153
The French have a phrase, la chose bien faite—the thing well made, the thing well done, or the life well lived. Zen practice goes to the heart of this same matter—doing and living well, doing and living fully, doing and living our best.
Throughout most of our lives, we’re so caught up in this and that, rushing through these wonderful distractions and stages, that we don’t (or can’t) take the time to settle into the mellow light that’s always there and to let freshness suffuse the frame. Thus we miss this simple matter of just doing and living fully.
Actor Peter O’Toole once told of receiving a coat he had sent to the cleaners. It came back with a note pinned to the inside that read, “It distresses us to return work that is not perfect.”
This, to me, is what it means to be fully human. Not that we must be perfect or that we can bring everything to perfection or completion but, rather, that it is our concern that we do so.
This is precisely what Zen practice is about: doing our best. Whatever we ’re doing—whether it be humble or grand—we take care of it all in each moment, from beginning to end. Thus we arrive at completion in each moment.

167
We live through experience, not through description. Though we want to share our experiences with others, we actually can’t. To share a sunset with someone, there’s no point in de- scribing the sunset (or debating about how best to describe it). Just stand next to the person and watch the sun go down with- out saying a word.
The ultimate failing of a teacher is to believe that what they tell their students is Truth. When the student takes hold of that belief, such a teacher will be incapable of taking it away and thus letting the student taste freedom.
Ultimately, we need to abandon any notion that taking hold of some particular thing—some particular idea, belief, ritual, religion, perspective, form of dress, or way of acting—is going to bring us to Truth. Finally we have to stop looking for something to save us, something to stand under, to identify with, to improve us, to make us whole.
We must abandon understanding and being understood. As we do, we can come into this moment, fully alive and awake.

172-173
Don’t believe me because you see me as your teacher. Don’t believe me because others do. And don’t believe anything because you’ve read it in a book, either. Don’t put your faith in reports or tradition or hearsay or the authority of religious leaders or texts. Don’t rely on mere logic or inference or appearances or speculation. Know for yourselves that certain things are unwholesome and wrong. And when you do, then give them up. And when you know for yourselves that cer- tain things are wholesome and good, then accept them
and follow them.
Another way of looking at this is through the Buddha’s teach- ing of avoiding of extremes. Don’t be a hundred percent gullible; don’t be a hundred percent scornful and dismissive, either. The Buddhadharma urges each of us to be good skeptics—in the classical Greek sense. A good skeptic is slightly gullible: willing to consider and examine any evidence or argument be- ing raised, at least temporarily. They neither swallow it whole nor reject it outright. They continuously observe it, test it, and engage it with interest, curiosity, and openness.
To dismiss something as bunk before you examine it is the hallmark of a believer, not a skeptic. Those who won’t even examine something are operating out of an agenda, are shut down to actual experience, and are so full of ideas that they can’t see what’s coming at them. For them the world is structured and fixed, and they’re often caught up in their own form of bunk: an insistence on dismissing and devaluing certain propositions or attitudes. This is not skepticism but cynicism.
In order to cultivate a pure mind, we need to set aside our personal agendas. But this doesn’t mean taking up the personal agenda of someone else—a teacher, for example. No true Dharma teachers would ever direct you to follow their personal agenda. In fact, they really don’t have much of a personal agenda regarding you. Their only concern for you is that you awaken. (As my teacher used to say, the final job of a teacher is to free the student of the teacher.)
Many of us initially take up the religious life with a lot of high-minded ideas about what we ’re going to accomplish. But that’s only more ego, more business as usual—religious ego- tism. If we truly want to live the religious life, we simply have to drop our agendas—even our religious ones. Only then can we begin to cultivate a mind of true goodness and compassion, which comes out of a concern for the Whole.
As we live out of such a mind, we become generous, with no sense of giving or of making a sacrifice. We become open, with no sense of tolerance. We become patient, with no sense of putting up with anything. We become compassionate, with no sense of separation. And we become wise, with no sense of having to straighten anyone out.


187-188
One other point about authority: no human being or institution ever has more authority than that granted by other human beings. This means that you are the final authority in terms of whom you give credence to and how you live your life.
Turning over this authority to anyone else is a kind of spiritual laziness. You’ll be disinclined to pay careful and critical attention to what’s actually going on, and you’ll be left wide open to being manipulated, misled, and scammed.
The Buddha recognized this and warned against it. For in- stance, he told people not to make any images of him. (And people didn’t at first.)
You need to realize that you are Buddha. Yet the more we glorify and deify the man we call the Buddha, the more diffi- cult it is for us to wake up. After all, if you make your teachers into gods, how can you realize the Truth that you are fundamentally no different from them?
In the end, it comes down to this: authority, which is yours already, rests only with direct experience. Ultimately, there is no other place for you to look.

194-195
The time came when my friend realized Tippy had to be euthanized. He went to get Tippy for the last time. As he came into the room, Tippy was too weak to lift her head, though she tried. But her tail started to wag. She was happy to see her friend and master. Even as she faced death, she was serene.
Unlike animals, we fool ourselves about death. We think we know that we ’re going to die. But death isn’t something we can know as an idea. What we call “death” is only something we imagine. Real death—Real anything—is always right here, right now. It’s not lurking somewhere off in the future. It occurs—it can only occur—now.
Animals are not confused about this matter. It is we, with our complex thoughts, who are confused, we who whine about our condition. We do this because we imagine everything set apart from ourselves, here and now.
But what you or I or anyone thinks doesn’t belong to now. It’s not the Reality we actually live from moment to moment. Birth and death occur right here, right now. Were we to awaken
to this moment, we ’d find nothing to complain about.

206
The awakened see Reality as it is. They see that enlightenment is nothing more than not being deceived by the conceptual world each of us creates.
Consciousness splits the world into this and that and the next thing. The most basic split, of course, is “here I am” and “out there is everything else.” But when we understand what consciousness is and how it functions, we realize that our sense of self and other, of subject and object, is an illusion created by consciousness itself.
The enlightened person isn’t taken in by such conceptual dualities. Still, it isn’t that the illusion goes away. The illusion still appears, but it’s seen for what it is—an illusion. And this seeing is utterly liberating.
As the Buddha put it, “Just as a man steps upon a serpent and shudders in fear but then looks down and notices that it’s only a rope, so it was that one day I realized that what I was calling ‘I’ cannot be found, and all fear and anxiety vanished with my mistake.”
But what, exactly, has changed? In a sense, nothing. “The rope” is still “there”; “the foot” is still “there.” But everything is seen as empty of self. Thus with seeing, the sense of “I” drops away. We no longer have to get in there and manipulate or control.
Enlightened people don’t suddenly disappear. Neither do they suddenly forget how to eat a meal or drive a car or take care of their children. But they understand that they cannot hurt others without doing injury to themselves. In the end, what is understood is that this is all of one fabric.

216-217
Gradually, however, we can begin to appreciate what the experience of smelling a rose actually entails. It’s of the nature of the mirror itself—that is, that the source of all experience is Mind. As such, the act of smelling—or seeing or hearing or touching or thinking—literally has no location. This non- locality is the very essence of Mind.
We naively think Mind conveys actual objects to us, as though the objects themselves were Real. Although they may appear this way, no separate objects are ever created and conveyed to us. In fact, such an arrangement is quite literally impossible.
We know from physics, for example, that the book you’re holding and the hand that holds it are reconstructed (that is, reborn) moment after moment as a blur of rapidly moving molecules and atoms, each exchanging electrons and energy with other molecules and atoms at enormous speed. As a result, in no two instants is there the same book or hand. The whole picture reduces to energy and movement.
Early Buddhist teachers, who did not have the benefit of modern physics, nevertheless recognized this as total, thorough- going impermanence. Nothing whatsoever abides for a moment. In each instant we find a different picture, a changed universe.
And why is the physical world this way? Because this is the only way it can be experienced. It’s a mental experience. Mind is the Source.
But I’m not talking about our common idea of mind, like “your mind” or “my mind.” Your mind and my mind are just more examples of the mentally fabricated and labeled stuff, such as “this book,” “the rose,” “the fragrance,” and all the rest. These all exhibit a reality we cannot deny; yet if we think they are all there is to Reality, we've got it all backward. The multitude of labeled things is not Reality but merely our interpretation—our concepts—of Reality.

241-242
It’s only in our mental construction of the universe—our conception of it—that we encounter something vast and enduring. In our actual experience, however—that is, what we actually perceive rather than conceive of—all we ever have is here and now.
Our experience is always in the present. We literally cannot exist in the future or past, only in the timeless moment of infinitely short duration that we call now. We only remember the past and imagine the future, but both of these activities necessarily occur now.
And where can you ever possibly be but here? Here we conceive of a “there,” but you cannot actually go there. No matter where you “go,” you never leave here.
What we experience as duration and extension—time and space—results from the way Mind operates. Consciousness produces them. Indeed, this is what consciousness is. Consciousness is the division of this otherwise seamless Whole, which transcends space and time, into space and time—that is, into here and there, then and now.
It’s the various mental constructions that we hold, and hold dear, that appear as time and space, extension and duration. These—and all of the material world—derive from consciousness, which ladles out time and space from a timeless, spaceless sea.
To the awakened, however, what is Real is this seamless, boundless, spaceless, timeless Whole. The enlightened person sees that this Whole doesn’t have any dimension apart from Mind.

Buddhism for the pragmatic American. Explained well with none of that as-soon-as-you-try-to-explain-it-you-fail stuff.

This is a book that's half-and-half for me. Hagen explains many teachings of Buddhism, however, he does get repetitive, and his constant emphasis on concept of "reality", "truth" and "seeing" is difficult to comprehend. The book might be more suited for practitioners, rather than for someone just getting into understanding Buddhism.

This book was in my read list since eons. Finally got it in my hand.

The book is a good introduction to Buddhism aka Hinduism aka Hindutva. It covers the basic concepts wonderfully and does let us know the author himself has a an idea about what he is talking.

I loved the easy read but being from Bharat it related a lot. I guess if another person of different religion or country reads it.. It may not be that easy to discern the essence of ideas.

It is a good introduction to Buddhism if anyone is interested in it.

This book is poorly writen and highly repetitive. I was very annoyed at the end of reading it. It felt almost as if the author took two or three basic tenants of Buddhism and beat them over your head until you couldn't think of anything else. I don't recommend this as an intro to Buddhism!

More of a book for those who are already practitioners. I don't think newcomers to Buddhism would actually understand what he is talking about. I would recommend to those who are already Buddhist practitioners.

Liked the tempo of this book.