When you first study Zen mountains are mountains. Then mountains are no longer mountains. Finally mountains are mountains again.

-- Zen saying

In common usage the absolute is, well, absolute. It is constant and unchanging; it is invariant. Absolute zero is the coldest temperature any substance can have. A musician with absolute pitch can tell you the name of a note without any external reference. In computer science an absolute address will locate a particular memory cell (or web page) regardless of context.

In contrast, relative implies a relation to something else. The relative is undefined without some comparative external reference point. You could sooner clap with one hand than have the relative in isolation. The relative is about interplay. Our ordinary temperature scales have the zero point set relative to some external reference temperature, like the boiling point of water. A musician with relative pitch can tell you the relation between a note and a given reference note, i.e., the distance, or interval, between them. And in computer science a relative address is a name for a memory cell only in relation to some other known address, like the program counter.

Since the concepts of relative and absolute occur so frequently in the real world it is not surprising that they have a long history in Zen too. In Zen the absolute refers to the essential Oneness of everything. It is often known as nirvana or the undifferentiated state. When there is nothing to compare with, and indeed no separate self, nothing can be relative. The relative in Zen refers to the ordinary world of separation, of individual human beings, and of named objects. It is often known as samsara or the differentiated state.

So which is it? Relative or absolute? It is both. The Zen saying at the beginning of this essay illustrates a typical path for a student of Zen. At first the student is experienced only with the relative, differentiated world. So of course a mountain is a mountain. What else could it be? After studying and practicing Zen for a while, though, the student has a direct experience with the absolute. (I cannot emphasize the direct experience part enough. The absolute can only be directly experienced.) This experience and realization can be quite profound. For a time it may act to exclude the world of the relative so that mountains are no longer mountains. The student sees the absolute everywhere, and is often awestruck with it. This can sometimes make for difficult relations with those who seem to constantly miss the beauty surrounding them. Eventually, though, with continued practice, mountains become mountains again. The student returns to the relative world while at the same time keeping touch with the absolute. The student who returns is not the same one who left. Mountains!

How does this relate to morality, ethics, and moral relativism? There are no moral or ethical absolutes in Zen. This statement may seem shocking to some, but let me explain. Some people may look at the statement and say, "Ha! Isn't that statement itself an absolute?". These people are looking at the statement as if it were a logical statement or a rule to which they can apply a transformation and obtain a contradiction. But this is not the sense in which the statement is used. It is that very craving for absolute rules which the statement addresses.

There are rules in Zen and in Buddhism, just as there are in our society. For example, there are the precepts of Buddhism and the rules of zendo etiquette. In Zen these rules are really more like guidelines. That some rules are more important than others is just common sense. There can be no absolute rules within the absolute. Once you think "rule" the absolute is shattered.

This does not make Zen or Buddhism an amoral philosophy. From thermodynamics I know that my glass of water may suddenly fly into the air at any moment. But I also know this is so unlikely that I can take it as a rule that this will not happen. Likewise I do not need absolute rules for right and wrong to know and say that it is wrong to purposely abuse someone. Indeed, sometimes people justify doing what they know is wrong simply because it does not seem to break any rules. Practice is important to avoid self-delusions about your actions.

Sometimes there is a tendency for Zen students in the stage where there are no mountains to dismiss the suffering of others. After all, who is there to suffer? This does not make other people's suffering any less real, though. Keeping in tune with the absolute can help make suffering easier to bear, but should not be used to dismiss it. The Buddha taught that suffering arises from attachment, and that is true. Some days I think the real art of Zen is not necessarily ridding oneself of attachments but in being aware of one's attachments and choosing them wisely. Remember that the Buddha taught compassion.