Zen Artistry - Introduction
When I was an undergraduate student at Goddard College, I remember taking a class on eastern philosophy by an instructor named Chin Sei Yu who offered this class on a Monday morning at 7AM. As a Professor in my own right, I’m not sure that
I’ve ever met anyone past or present who had the daring to offer a 7AM class on a Monday morning. And so it was that about eleven other students and I took this class and it was there that my interest in Japan and eastern philosophy first began. Goddard College, I should point out, was on the vanguard of experimental colleges at that time in keeping with such schools
as Antioch College, Ohio; Hampshire College, Massachusetts and Reed College, Oregon. Goddard prided itself on the close working relationship between students and faculty. It followed the Oxford university model of small group tutorials. Best of all, Goddard was an early promoter of foreign studies abroad. Later, in that same semester, Professor Yu convinced me that
I should study abroad and in the winter of 1972 I boarded a TWA flight for Tokyo, Japan.
That winter, I was enrolled at Sophia University; a Jesuit school that stood in marked contrast to Goddard. The ancient Jesuit school was my first exposure to Catholic education. It was a highly structured environment and setting. The Jesuits prided themselves on their intellectual and academic rigor. Know your opponent’s argument as well as you know your own. That was central to Jesuit training and discipline. One of my more memorable classes that winter was a course in comparative religions taught by a Jesuit Priest named Father De LaCampagna. Instead, of attending the first week of class, I hopped
a tramp steamer in time for the start of the Winter Olympics in Sapporo. Let’s just say I was out of position for the start
of next week’s classes. And to make matters worse, I was running twenty minutes late to that Monday’s class due to a subway slowdown. As I glanced at my watch, I groaned and broke into a run across campus. After several minutes, I found the humanities building and bounded up two flights of stairs. I read the number above the doorway and quietly knocked before entering.
I soon entered a classroom where all movement was suspended in time worn leather antiquity. There, sitting before me, were twenty-eight students impeccably dressed in jackets and ties. They hailed from some of the best Catholic universities from around the world. They shifted their attention momentarily from the pew where Father De LaCampagna spoke, to the intruder standing at the doorway. Several looked somewhat astonished at the student from Vermont who wore jeans,
headband and a tee shirt that read, 'Are you going to show up to the Mountain with the same old pair of feet you had last year? Sherpa Snowshoes'. There was one empty chair located in the first seat in the first row. Without breaking stride, Father
De LaCampagna simply motioned to me to take the unoccupied chair. He was not impressed.
During my time at Sophia, I was also a student in the martial arts; specifically, Shotokan karate and attended their main dojo in Suidobashi. My instructors were some of the best in world; several of whom were former Olympic champions on Japan’s national team. Each of my instructors possessed different skills. One was known for lighting speed. Another, for power and defense. And still a third; cunning — knowing how to read your opponent. I trained in the international division. We came from different backgrounds and reasons for being in Japan. There was one instructor in particular, Mr. Yano (or Yano) who as
it turned out; had no particular style. He was a throwback to the character of Odd Job from the James Bond film, Goldfinger. His approach was to simply corner you on the dojo floor and beat the daylights out of you. One important rite of passage occurred when the JKA student obtained his brown belt. In recognition for that accomplishment, the student got to spar with Yano for 15 minutes in the full presence of everyone on the dojo floor. It was something that none of us looked forward to.
In preparation, our international group would take our fellow classmate out for a couple of beers the night before his scheduled bout with Yano. When it became our time, we would each adopt the same losing strategy which was to avoid him as best
we could for those 15 minutes. But eventually, Yano would catch up with the young student initiate and teach him a Shotokan lesson in humility. This JKA class, like all classes, was followed by a traditional bow, kneeling for a few minutes in silence
and then washing the dojo floor with brushes and water. It was very old school to be sure. But what we shared in common
was a dedicated commitment to the sport and a willingness to engage in a longstanding approach to training and discipline.
That summer, I hitch-hiked throughout the main island of Honshu and the southern island of Kyushu. This was at a time when hitch-hiking was fairly common place. And being an American actually worked in my favor. I sewed up a pair of blue nylon boxer
shorts grabbed my backpack and off I went. Along the way, I spent several weeks at a small Zen temple outside of Kyoto. The study
of Zen begins with an understanding that it represents a school of Buddhism; or to be more exact, one type of system and approach
to Buddhism. The origins of Zen Buddhism date back to the 12th century, when it was introduced to Japan by a Tendai Buddhist monk named Myoan Eisai after having spent time in China. I kept a journal that summer and it became the basis for my honor’s thesis at Goddard which was entitled Coals and Mist. It was a travelogue featuring commentary and haiku poetry based on the style of writing of Japan’s famous 17th century poet, Matsuo Bashō. When I returned to Goddard, Professor Yu Chin Sei agreed to serve as my advisor. In our early conversations, I discovered that Professor Yu was a consummate artist in Sumi-e painting and he generously contributed a series of brush-and-ink character drawings to accompany the narrative. He would often say, “To a mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.” But perhaps Chin Sei Yu’s most important contribution to the project was a periodic reminder that Zen artistry is something that should be applied to one’s everyday life. How right he was.
* * *
I did some travel after college including a year-long stay in Israel. When I returned I was offered a job teaching English
at a Catholic high school in northern Vermont. The prominent Crucifix of Jesus on the lobby wall as you enter the building was
a clear reminder that I was now journeying into my second go-round with Catholic education. At the interview, Principal Father
Roland Rivard asked me a number of questions regarding my background and training. As we concluded the interview, this same French Canadian priest asked me whether I could handle teaching at a Catholic High school? I smiled and looked directly at him.
“Absolutely!”
"Splendid. Oh, and one more thing. Can you teach a new course for us in Media and Communication and can
you coach the hockey team?”
Without breaking stride, I said ‘yes’ to the first; I needed a job and a polite ‘no’ to the second; he had probably
never see me skate.
I’ve often said that what I learned about teaching came from my five years as a high school teacher at Rice High School.
I was surrounded by some of the best and most dedicated teachers that I’ve ever met; anytime, anywhere. What I didn’t know at the time was that teaching this course on media and communication would set me off in a professional direction that would later include a Master’s Degree from the University of Vermont and a Ph.D. from Ohio University. If Goddard gave me some early lessons in the principles of Zen Buddhism and eastern philosophy, it was my time at Ohio University that secured my knowledge in the field of media management and telecommunications. As a graduate student, I developed a strong interest
in business, technology and economics. This would set the foundation for my teaching and research in the years to come.
At Western Michigan University, I co-founded a program called Telecommunications and Information Management (TIM) which combined the work of Business Information Systems and the School of Communication. During its 17 years, the program
had a 92% placement rate where many of our TIM graduates now work for some of the best media and telecommunications companies in the world. My writing and research over the course of thirty plus years includes ten books and more than
75 book chapters and journal articles on such topical areas as media business strategy, transnational media, satellite communication as well as digital media and innovation. In 2000, I was granted a sabbatical leave from WMU that allowed
me to return to Japan as a visiting Professor at Nihon University. During that time, I did a major research project on media technology and innovation with the Sony Corporation. My wife Casey, a health-care professional and our son Matthew, joined me a for a portion of that time. She too was impressed with several of the Zen temples we visited in Kyoto as well as the many examples of Japanese landscaping and design. Matthew, for his part, was more impressed with the all new Playstation II. videogame system being developed at Sony. He got to jump on the system and hang with a few of Sony's software engineers. That was bragging rights for an eleven year old kid since it hadn’t been released in the U.S. Starting in 2012, I created
a website called the Digital Navigator EG https://www.digitalnavigatoreg.com/ which looks at media business strategy and technology innovation. It was originally designed as a teaching aid for my students.
All of this, of course, raises the question. How could a person who writes about such topics presume to write about
a subject matter as subtle and sublime as Zen Buddhism? After all, Zen would appear to be world's apart. And all that stuff about social media. Really? There is no simple answer. I like to think of it as embracing paradox. If done well, the two websites represent a portfolio approach. The digital media and innovation site speaks to speed, experimentation, and
future-oriented thinking — skills tied to growth, scalability, and relevance. The Zen artistry site, by contrast, offers reflection, craftsmanship, and intentional living — qualities that build trust, identity, and long-term value. More importantly, the coexistence of both sites signals that innovation doesn’t have to be frantic and that mindfulness doesn’t have to be disconnected from modern life. Many of today’s strongest entrepreneurs build ecosystems rather than single products, uniting efficiency with ethics, speed with wisdom. In that sense, the two websites are not a contradiction but a strategic expression
of balance — offering audiences both tools to navigate the future and principles to remain human within it. Throughout my time as a Professor and writer, I promised myself that one day, when the time was right, I would return to the subject of Zen artistry and the valuable lessons that it might offer. Instead of another book; why not design a website that operates in real time and that is more direct. Think of it as 21st century Zen. In a world that often prioritizes speed, perfectionism, and external success, Zen provides a pathway back to what is truly meaningful — an approach that is more grounded, present, and authentic.
The goal of this website is to combine the ancient wisdom of the past with Zen artistry of the present. Throughout its many links, we provide examples of Zen influence in a modern context. We tie together innumerable threads and connections from early Zen to the present day that’s seen in a variety of settings and venues. From the ancient Japanese garden of Ryoanji
in Kyoto to the creation of the Apple Phone in the 21st century, these representations emerge from the same sensibility and creative well-spring. Apple founder and legendary CEO Steve Jobs talks about the aesthetics of the Apple iPhone as having been Zen inspired in terms of clean lines, direct communication to the user and the combination of form and function.
Similarly, NBA basketball coach Phil Jackson, sometimes referred to as the Zen master, was unique in coming in terms
of how he coached the Chicago Bulls to 8 national championships. Japanese home designer Marie Kondo was clearly inspired by her Japanese roots (and by extension) Zen sensibility in her work on how to organize one’s home for ease and efficiency. What each of these three people share in common is an appreciation for simplicity in design and method. Zen Artistry, with its emphasis on mindfulness, simplicity, and presence, can offer a counterbalance to the fast-paced, often chaotic, and distracted nature of modern life. Zen artistry can teach us the value of living with intention, cultivating quiet confidence within and embracing simplicity and imperfection. So, my wife Casey and I invite you to take a journey together in considering Zen artistry from the past and its enduring influence in the modern world.
Richard A. Gershon
J. Casey Gershon
New Bern, North Carolina
