A small metal Buddha sits between two half-open windows on a side table covered with a floral cloth. Aside from this icon, the dimly lit office does not reveal much else about Ray Ronci’s personal beliefs.

After practicing Zen Buddhism for 30 years, the only sign of Ronci’s monasticism is his shaved head, which signifies discarding vanity and attachment to the world.

“Zen, strictly speaking, is not a religion,” he said. “It’s not really a matter of faith; it’s a matter of experience.”

This experience comes from sitting in meditation. The only faith involved, Ronci said, is through faith in the practice of sitting quietly. For him, the draw to Buddhism was that it did not rely on teachings and words.

Raised as a Roman Catholic, Ronci had been an altar boy, and his mom had previously been a nun. Despite this religious upbringing, he became interested in other religions and learned about Buddhism in a comparative religions class. He continued his studies throughout the rest of high school and college.

“I thought Buddhism itself was really interesting,” Ronci said. “The Buddha, just like Jesus, didn’t write any books. Oral teachings get handed down from generations of teachers, and from generation to generation, teachings get interpreted and reinterpreted.”

The reinterpretation of texts was something that did not appeal to Ronci. Many religions rely on a text for their guiding principles or the way to worship, but because the text has been reinterpreted in so many ways, there is a lack of agreement within religions. “Everybody reads the same text, the same words, but they don’t understand it the same way,” he said.

Zen is unique because it suggests “transmission of mind outside of scriptures,” emphasizing strictly sitting and meditating instead of words that could have been misinterpreted over the years. “We look for truth and meaning in language,” Ronci said. “It’s not there.”

The attraction to Zen came when Ronci, now 53, was in his early 20s. Living in Paris as a young poet, he was living out the romantic notion of being a creative mind in a foreign city. “I was a mess,” he said. “I was living the strange fantasy of an American expatriate poet.”

Although he had studied Buddhism from books, the knowledge was just intellect, not experience. He described sitting in front of a mirror with a book open, as he tried to hold perfect posture while sitting cross-legged in order to meditate.

“You can read books about it, and you can read descriptions,” Ronci said. “But you need someone to put their hands on you and correct your posture.” It was during his time in Paris that he decided he needed to learn from a master how to meditate.

For Ronci, the repeated, continued practice of meditation lightens the burden of everyday life. “Zen is sitting down clear, sober, lucid, upright, breathing and being present,” he said. “I think the problem is that we’re so removed from ourselves these days, no one’s familiar with their natural state anymore.”

The natural state, Ronci said, is to “just breathe and be.” Ronci said the integration of modern technology causes fragmented learning from the ubiquitous imagery and information glut of a media-driven society. “My mind was like a labyrinth,” he said. “I had no peace.”

By meditating, he found that peace because he gave himself a personal timeout. To breathe and be is, to Ronci, one of the most sensible things a person can do. “When you stop seeking or searching, that’s Zen.”