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Zazen Meditation

Shodo Harada Roshi is Abbot of Sogen-ji, a Rinzai Zen monastery in Okayama, Japan. He has established sister monasteries in the USA, Germany and India, and regularly visits practice groups around the world.

ZAZEN PRACTICE 5 Zazen is a romanized Japanese term. “Za” literally means to sit or sitting; “zen” means to meditate or concentrate. Actually, “zazen” is much more than “sitting in meditation”. In short, “zazen” is a Buddhist practice to settle your mind in its original state.

  1. How to Sit in Zazen Posture. There are five basic sitting positions from which to choose: the full lotus, the half-lotus, the Burmese, and seiza, or kneeling. You may also use a chair. The essential point is to find a position which you can maintain.
  2. Zen meditation, also known as Zazen, is a meditation technique rooted in Buddhist psychology. The goal of Zen meditation is to regulate attention. 1  It’s sometimes referred to as a practice that involves “thinking about not thinking.”.
  3. Brief History of Zazen Meditation. Zazen meditation, or Zen meditation in a larger scope is a Buddhist traditional meditation that dates to the 7 th century China, precisely during the Tang dynasty. Due to its Chinese origins, it is originally known as “Ch’an,” only then it is known as “Zen” after it had been introduced to neighbouring Japan and Korea.

In his booklet, How to Do Zazen, he writes,

As the center of your being settles lower in your body and your mind becomes more open you will start noticing the endless thoughts that arise in your head. It is no use trying to suppress them. A better approach is to focus on counting your breaths (a practice known as susokkan), which will help you maintain concentration and not get caught up in ideas. With each out-breath count a single number, continuing from one to ten and then returning to one again. Eventually the numbers will become part of the flow of breathing and you will no longer need to count. But in the beginning, counting your breaths will help you keep your energy gathered, your mind clear, and your attention focused on your breathing.

Shodo Harada provides detailed instructions in a YouTube video (English subtitles are available by clicking on the cc button).

In his book The Path to Bodhidharma, he describes how to,

There are three central aspects of zazen: the aspect of body, the aspect of breathing, and the aspect of mind.


Align the Body

Zazen Meditation Breathing

The bodily aspect concerns the physical posture of zazen. In meditation, the aspect of mind is in many ways central, but the body-mind relation is such that unless attention is paid to the details of proper posture, it is extremely difficult to achieve anything on the mental level of true zazen. Sitting for even a thousand years with a slack posture will leave you just as confused and deluded as ever.

The body may be considered in terms of the section above the waist and the section below the waist, and both have their respective roles to play in the overall balance of zazen. The upper portion must be light and relaxed, while the lower portion must be firm, taut, and settled. We might compare the physical form of zazen to that of a pyramid, broad and stable at the base and gradually tapering toward the top, until it reaches a single point. The folding of the legs during meditation into the lotus position puts one in firm contact with the ground, creating a calm, stable foundation for both body and mind. Either full lotus or half lotus is fine, though the full lotus is preferable since the half lotus more easily results in a loss of balance and consequent injury to the legs.

The folded legs comprise a triangle where the knees form the two base angles and the coccyx forms the apex. The buttocks are pushed back and the lower abdomen is pressed forward, while the trunk rises perpendicularly from the middle of this foundation, forming a balanced centerline for the overall body pyramid. The lower back is curved in as much as possible to provide a solid support for the upper trunk; sitting with your back bent out may seem more comfortable, but it easily leads to sleepiness and random thoughts, and it makes the attainment of deeper meditative states impossible. The upper body should rise up in a light and relaxed manner, almost as if it is not there. The chin should be pulled back and the top of the head thrust upward, while the neck should touch against the back of the collar. With the body in this posture the strength will quite naturally settle into the tanden, the place in the lower abdomen, two or three inches below the navel, that forms the physical and mental foundation of zazen practice. It is important, however, to think of the tanden not as a specific point on the body but as something that appears when a number of factors are in proper balance—the tanden is, in a sense, the expression of an overall condition. It will not appear unless the upper trunk is relaxed, the back is straight, and the lumbar area is firmly tucked in. When the back is curved in as far as possible, the trunk naturally straightens and the ki, the vital energy, flows freely upward along the spine.

The use of zazen cushions, known as zafu, makes it easier to maintain this posture. Do not sit right in the middle of the zafu, since this tends to shift the body’s centerline backward, rendering it harder to sit properly and defeating the cushion’s purpose. Instead, place yourself more toward the front of the zafu, so that the body slants slightly forward and the back curves naturally in, easing the burden on the lumbar muscles. Make sure the cushion is of the appropriate height—people with years of experience may be able to sit well even with a relatively low cushion, but beginners usually need to raise the pelvis higher to aid the proper in-curving of the lower back.

When you start a period of meditation, particularly if you are a beginner, straighten your spine by leaning forward slightly, then leave your pelvis tipped forward and your lower back curved in as you bring the rest of your trunk to an upright position. Continue to rock forward and backward until you find the proper point of centeredness. Doing this will provide a quite clear sense of both the lower back and the tanden. Some practitioners find themselves sleepy, unfocused, or full of scattered thoughts nearly every time they sit. I’ve found that almost always this is because their back is not curved in and their centerline is off.

Whether sitting in full lotus or in half lotus, it is easiest to maintain your balance if you pull your feet up on your thighs as close as possible to your trunk; it is when you sit with your legs not high enough that they become numb and painful. The soles of your feet should face upward and not out to the sides. Attention to such details of posture is very important in finding the right physical alignment. Of course, your legs will hurt if you remain in this position twelve hours a day, but you need not make an endurance contest out of zazen. Try to sit in this manner, focused and straight, for even just a single short period every day.

When sitting, it is important to close your anal sphincter muscles slightly, as this helps keep the lower trunk in the proper position and in the right state of tautness, promoting the free flow of ki up through your tanden and backbone to the top of your head. When this flow is present, the back straightens naturally and the entire body comes into proper balance with the centerline. When the body is thus properly aligned—the lower portion taut and firm, the ki flowing freely, and the upper trunk straight, light, and relaxed—the mind, too, becomes settled, and extraneous thoughts are minimized. In contrast, when you sit in a careless fashion, inattentive to the details of posture, your ki, which should flow freely throughout your system, stagnates in the upper regions. This makes it difficult to bring the body into proper balance and causes painful stiffness in the shoulders and neck. The stability of the lower trunk is thus disturbed, causing a loss of balance in the entire body; you feel unsettled and overreact emotionally. Even the ordinary activities of daily life become difficult.

In this way, the study of Zen must proceed through the body—theorizing alone cannot lead to the inner experience of true zazen, in which your ki fills your tanden and provides a sense of boundless energy that seems to extend to the very ends of the universe. When you are grounded in your physical center and the various bodily parts are settled in their proper positions, the energy circulates naturally; the spine is straight, and the entire physical structure rests in a position of optimal balance, like a pagoda rising up with each story settled firmly on the one below. By maintaining this posture not only during zazen but in daily life—in walking, in working, and in all other activities—you remain centered in your lower abdomen, so your upper body feels fresh and light and you are filled with a sense of clarity.

This will be aided by loose clothing that does not restrict the flow of your breath. Another factor to be careful about is eating. Meat and other greasy fare thicken the blood and should be reduced; the emphasis should be on good nourishment. The matter of sleep, too, is important—neither too much nor too little is good for zazen.


One receives energy and support from food, from sleep, and from the surrounding environment. A balanced approach to these factors not only helps your practice but also contributes to good health, and a state of good health is, needless to say, the most suitable physical condition for the practice of Zen. I might add that it is best to sit with other Zen practitioners, so that everyone can sense everyone else’s zazen energy and draw strength from their efforts to harmonize the mind. It works the other way around, too—it is quite difficult to sit among people who have no interest in meditation.

One’s inner, mental environment is also important. You must make a conscious decision to practice, vowing from deep within to bring your body into balance, to harmonize your breathing, and to clarify your mind. Merely crossing your legs and sitting vacantly on a cushion is not enough. Unless you express your commitment in the form of conscious, directed effort, you will never be capable of genuine zazen.

It is very important also to keep your eyes open during meditation. Sitting with closed eyes may seem a good way to cut off distractions and achieve a state of inner silence, but doing so usually encourages drowsiness and extraneous thoughts. Even if you succeed in reaching a tranquil state of mind, this is nothing but hothouse Zen, of little use to you amid the challenges of everyday life. Furthermore, the senses, particularly sight and hearing, provide the most basic link between the outside world and the activities of the mind. Unless we learn to integrate such sensory input with our zazen, our training will be of little practical use.

Align the Breath

Let us now move on to the matter of aligning the breath. Settled, well-regulated breathing is basic to Zen practice and is vital to the realization of the inner essence of zazen. When the breath is disturbed, it is impossible to observe things accurately and make appropriate judgments. Moreover, shortness of breath often leads to shortness of temper—one loses one’s sense of perspective and reacts solely on the basis of the immediate circumstances. You become overly affected by what people say and are easily swayed by the events around you, leading to further disturbance and delusion. All of this signals that your breathing is not in order. Regulating the respiration means maintaining your breath in a relaxed and unobstructed flow regardless of the situation you find yourself in.

Begin your zazen with shinkokyu, “deep breathing.” The kind of deep breathing practiced during athletic warm-up exercises generally focuses on inhalation, but in zazen it is the exhalation that is central. It might be called “exhalation-type deep breathing.” This necessitates, first of all, that the upper body be straight and completely free of tension. Centering your respiration in your tanden, begin with an exhalation; if you start with an inhalation there is a tendency for the body to stiffen. Exhale completely, using the mouth, not the nose, for the first several breaths. After this, breathe through the nostrils. The respiration should be neither overly forceful nor overly gentle—it should feel full and expansive, as though it extends infinitely and without constraint. The breath should feel as though it comes not from the chest but directly from the lower abdomen, as though there were an open pipe directly connecting the tanden and the mouth.

Do not force the breath, but allow it to flow completely out in a relaxed, expansive way. If the upper body is completely free of tension, the settling of the strength into the tanden area will occur in a quite natural way. Continue the exhalation for about thirty seconds or more if possible, breathing out every last bit of air until the abdomen becomes convex. At the very end of the exhalation some tension tends to set in, so try making two or three light, gentle pushes—this heightens the sense of the tanden and makes the transition to inhalation quite natural. When the in-breath is complete (generally it does not take long), begin the next exhalation, again letting out all the air until the abdomen is concave and finishing in the same manner with two or three small pushes.

This type of breathing, in which the air is released until the belly becomes concave, is called abdominal breathing. Try to take about ten breaths in this way, being careful to exhale fully with each one. When the exhalation is complete, the ideas filling the head are, as it were, expelled along with the air. This is the best way to effect the mental “turnabout” that enables you to leave behind the agitations of everyday life and begin zazen with a mind that is fresh, clear, and empty. With only a partial exhalation, your mental state in zazen remains a mere continuation of what was in your mind before.

When you have settled into this abdominal breathing, with the shoulders and chest free of tension, the entire upper body relaxed, and your strength seated in the tanden, then a shift takes place—from abdominal breathing to tanden breathing. In the former, the abdominal muscles play the major role in the drawing in and letting out of the breath, expanding and contracting to enable long, relaxed, free respiration. This quickly brings about a settling of ki in the tanden, which in turn gives rise to a sense of strength and stability in the area between the lower back and the lower abdomen, drawing the consciousness there and filling it with relaxed energy. In this state, the abdomen remains rounded and nearly motionless even as the breath moves freely in and out, as though (in the words of Hakuin) there were a fully inflated ball inside. Were the belly to be poked from the outside, it would feel taut and firm but not rigid.

Once this tanden breathing is mastered, you can maintain the zazen state of mind whether you stand or sit, work or talk—in the words of Yoka Gengaku’s Song of Enlightenment, “Walking is Zen, sitting too is Zen; speaking or silent, moving or still, the essence is undisturbed.” This is not easy at first, of course, and we soon become scattered as we go about the activities and interactions of daily life, but as tanden breathing matures, you will notice how your inner state remains the same in all conditions, even during sleep. This is because in tanden breathing, the body and the respiration have come into a state of oneness; it is not something performed through willpower, but something that the body does quite naturally. For the same reason, the body is always relaxed during this type of respiration—it is only when the conscious mind tries to influence the breath that tension and stiffness set in.

Align the Mind

This state of integration alone, however, is not in itself enough to bring about the third type of alignment mentioned above: alignment of the mind. Attaining the stability of a well-aligned mind is essential in Zen training, since most of us do not live in a quiet world of our own, cut off from other people, but are instead surrounded by the constant distractions and demands of everyday life. In daily life there are, of course, important matters that demand careful thought, but so much of what fills our heads is utterly unnecessary. We constantly replay emotionally charged situations and fret endlessly over personal relationships, overloading our minds with thoughts that are of no real account. One memory leads to another to create an endless chain of ideas that clouds our awareness and confuses our mental functions. We end up unable to judge situations accurately and therefore act in inappropriate ways.

In Zen, it is through the practice of susokkan or the koan that alignment of the mind is attained. Susokkan, which literally means “counting-the-breath meditation,” is the most basic practice in Zen for mind-alignment. It is not a mere breathing exercise, as it is often regarded even by experienced Zen practitioners; rather, it is the primary means by which we gather the ki in the tanden, and it leads to a thorough cleansing of the very roots of the mind. Traditionally, susokkan is said to consist of six “wonderful gates”—that is, six aspects or stages. The first is called su (literally, “to count”), in which one counts as one observes the inhalations and exhalations; the second is zui (“to follow”), in which one comes into harmony with the breathing and simply follows its movement as it flows in and out; the third is shi (“to stop”), in which the mind is focused in a state of oneness; the fourth is kan (“to observe”), in which one sees clearly and directly into the true nature of all existence; the fifth is gen (“to return”), in which the all-seeing eyes attained at the kan stage are turned inward to see clearly within oneself; and the sixth is jo (“to purify”), in which one reaches the state where not so much as a speck remains.

In susokkan, the out-breath should be long and steady. One breath after the other, inhale and exhale with the entire body, keeping centered in your lower abdomen and taking care not to force the outbreath, as this would prevent the expansive, free respiration necessary to zazen. The full exhalation should last for ten to fifteen seconds (or, for beginners, for about eight seconds, with eight seconds for inhalation, so that there are about four complete breath cycles a minute). As you become accustomed to this type of breathing, the exhalations will grow longer, while the inhalations will remain about the same length.

As mentioned above, the first stage of susokkan is counting the breaths; the counting in and of itself is not essential, but in the beginning it helps focus the attention on the breathing process. Slowly and expansively become one with each number, breathing and counting in a relaxed, unhurried manner free of all tension. Generally, one counts in a series of from one to ten, but it is also possible to count from one to a hundred or from one to a thousand, or even just to recite “one” over and over again. Allow the exhalations to be full and complete, aiding the process with the two small, relaxed pushes described above—this will lead to a very comfortable breathing cycle.

Again, the respiration in susokkan must not be forced or artificially controlled, as this would simply constrict the breathing process. Do not count in an automatic manner, but with relaxed yet complete attention. You must apply yourself unceasingly and with single-minded sincerity to this careful counting, working with ever-fresh attention and creativity. Exhale from the lower abdomen in an open, relaxed manner until your belly feels totally empty and the in-breath begins spontaneously; if you are too hasty or hurried, your practice will become mechanical and your mind will remain restless and unable to deepen into a state of intense concentration. At the beginning, your trunk tends to pull backward and the movement of the abdomen feels unnatural; you become very self-conscious about how the process is going, and about whether you are “succeeding” or not. As your sitting ripens with constant practice, you will be able to remain with your breathing quite naturally, your body in perfect harmony with the rhythm of respiration.

Focus on each individual breath, one after another, centering your consciousness in your tanden and filling it with energy. Breathe each breath totally, then forget it and move on to the next. Superficial concentration is useless—you must feel that the respiration is piercing through the ground to the very ends of the universe. Let no gaps appear between your concentration on one breath and the next. Continue like this, one focused breath cutting off all thought of the one before, cutting and cutting and cutting until there is no room for random ideas, no room for concepts of self, no room for inner noise. Your body, the zendo, the entire universe are all contained in this total focus on the breath, in this utter singleness of mind. There remains nothing to hold on to, nothing to depend upon.

This condition is known as samadhi of susokkan, where only the breathing and the counting remain; one has become the breathing; the mind is occupied with nothing else. In this state of true emptiness you feel completely refreshed, full of energy, and taut, yet fresh and lucid. This is the state of the first “wonderful gate” of susokkan, that of su.

In this way, follow the coming in and going out of your breath from morning until night. Count and count and keep on counting the breaths whether you are doing zazen or not; count whether you are standing or sitting, whether you are asleep or awake. As you continue, the inhalations and exhalations become completely natural, and finally you enter a clear, open state of perfect unity between mind and respiration, where it is no longer necessary to count to help focus your attention. This stage, in which the awareness and the breathing are one, with no need for numbers, is that of zui, “following.”

Then, at a certain point, all awareness disappears. This is the stage of shi, “stopping.” When this will happen cannot be predicted—it must occur naturally; it cannot be produced or forced. Some time after this “stopping” takes place you come back once again to awareness. This is kan, “to see.” Again, you cannot deliberately generate this state, it must happen of itself. Following this is gen, where you forget yourself completely, and finally jo, a state of mind that is bright, clear, and transparent. In all six of these stages—the natural path to samadhi—it is vitally important that one not attempt to force things but simply allow the process to unfold on its own.

Although six stages may be identified in the practice of susokkan, it is the first two—counting and following—that are most important. Once these are experienced the rest will follow of themselves. Do not get caught up in analyzing your progress or attempting to determine which of the six stages have been attained—just stay with the breathing. You must become the breathing. This is the most important point. The nature of the respiration varies, of course, sometimes becoming deeper and sometimes becoming shallower depending on whether you are working, reciting sutras, or sitting zazen, but press on until you can no longer tell whether it is you who is breathing or the breathing that is breathing itself.

This state must be deepened to the point that all connection with the outside world is cut off and nothing whatsoever touches or enters your awareness. This does not mean, however, that the senses are shut down. Externally, the correct way to cut off connections is to collect the mind into a single point and maintain this state of absolute attention and clear awareness. Internally, it is to avoid holding on to anything at all. Do not get caught by thoughts or fantasies—just let the breath flow in and out while staying with susokkan or your koan. Allow the images that arise to come and go as they will—like pictures passing on a screen—but keep your awareness focused on the breath, allowing nothing to linger in your mind, until you and your breath become one.

Breathing never stops—it is with you all the time. You need only remain attentive to its flow. Even if thoughts arise, even if stimuli press in from the outside, just push on without pause, allowing no breaks in your awareness. Put everything into the process and move relentlessly ahead. No matter what comes along, do not let it become an obstacle. If you lack the courage to advance in one continuous line, you should not begin in the first place. To do zazen and susokkan just because you think you ought to will never lead to a true understanding of the mind. If you want to touch the True Mind that connects each and every one of us, you must be willing to push beyond any problems that arise.

Bodhidharma likened such perseverance to the stability of a wall: “Cutting away all connections to external things, letting go of all concerns within, when our mind is like a firm, tall wall we are then at one with the Way.” But the idea is not to be hard and stiff. Whether sitting, standing, or engaged in the activities of everyday life, just maintain your awareness of the breath. If you proceed in this way, the noisy, bothersome thoughts that fill the mind will eventually quiet down, and all the ideas you once thought necessary will fade away. With all the stimulation in today’s world, this does not happen easily, but if you continue with a straightforward effort you will eventually realize a state of mind that is full and replete, a state of mind so still and clear that, like the depths of the ocean, neither wind nor wave can touch it.

Koan work and susokkan are not about attaining a quietistic state; they must become your total life energy, engaged in with the entire body and with the inner eye fully open. The first case of the Mumonkan explains it clearly: Zazen must involve every bit of your mind and every bit of your being, all “three hundred and sixty bones and joints and eighty-four thousand hair follicles.” In the face of such total awareness, random thoughts and fantasies soon vanish. In true zazen, not so much as a speck must remain of dualistic notions of self. Our existence fills the universe, and it is this existence that speaks words, that moves the body, that carries on the activities of everyday life. It is only when we realize this inner essence that koan work has any meaning. Zazen is not a trance—the eyes are fully open, the ears are fully open, the mind is fully open, the inner and outer worlds are one. It doesn’t matter if you are sitting in the zendo, walking, or cleaning the grounds; the essence is the same.

In this way align your mind so that absolutely nothing superfluous remains. This is the state called “no-mind,” the nature of which is impossible to explain; thus we describe it as “a fully aligned mind.” The spirit should always be clear, vast, and luminous. Not that we should cling to the notion of maintaining an empty mind or endlessly tell ourselves to avoid all thought—this is still delusion, and must be transcended as well. Nor, of course, should we go about searching for understanding in books or the words of others—this simply causes uncertainty and aimless wandering of the mind, quickly dissipating any concentration that may have been gathered through zazen. When filled with thoughts, the mind tends toward anxiety and dejection; when free of them, it becomes naturally fresh and relaxed; our facial expression clears, and our lives are filled with light. From this is born the true way of being and living.

This explanation, however, does not yet express the full purpose of zazen. At the entrance of a Zen temple we often see the words kyakka shoko: “Watch your step!” What these words are telling us is to be aware of everything we do. We take off our footwear attentively and in such a way that later no one has to rearrange it correctly for us. We put our shoes at the side of the entranceway, not in the middle, so that other people may more easily slip out of their shoes. In this way, even to the way in which we take off our shoes, continual awareness is necessary.

The words kyakka shoko do not, of course, apply only to our feet and shoes. They remind us to remain attentive in our entire way of living. If we keep our room in order then our home is kept in order, and next our neighborhood is kept in order, and next society is put in order. In this way, step by step, the nation, the natural environment, and finally the whole planet are put in order. The entire universe then comes into order. Thus, when we regulate our own mind, this circle extends to include the whole planet, and then the entire universe. To align your own mind, to put it in order, is to correct and put society in order.

When Master Joshu said, “When you’ve finished your gruel, be sure to wash your bowls!” he was showing us how the process of creating order is not something special or unusual. It is living a simple and natural life in a simple and natural way. If we do this, then order manifests naturally and of itself—there is nothing special that has to be done in order to produce or maintain it. In your everyday life, if your way of being is in order and your mind’s creative and inventive energies are full and consistent, then everything around you will spontaneously and naturally come into order as well. This is living zazen, useful throughout our lives.

When the Buddha spoke from the top of Vulture Peak, he held a single flower in front of everyone. This was not just any flower—it was the Buddha’s experience, the manifesting of the Buddha’s very essence. Even if it is true that humans are simply another type of animal, as some people so dismissively put it, we are not here simply to live out our lives eating and sleeping. If we simply live and die as the animals do, then our existence as human beings has no significance. To be truly human we must live in a humane and dignified way. We are not alive merely to accumulate things and fulfill our desires. Our life, our mind—how brightly can they shine and illuminate all that we encounter? Zen is the direct realization of the divine light as it exists right here within our bodies. To have the exquisite teachings of the sutras come forth from our very own bodies, expressed in our every word and every action—that is the point. Unless we experience this our Zen is not genuine. With our wonderful human mind and spirit we are not mere animals; we are called to live our lives in the best way possible. This is the understanding that Master Joshu expressed so that the young monk, too, might be able to understand.

If we view our zazen as something separate and independent from our actual, everyday lives, then it has no meaning whatsoever. In this real world, in our actual living bodies, we must discover to what degree we can refine and develop our creative and inventive potential, and to what extent we can shine forth with a great and brilliant light throughout our lives. We must examine ourselves always in this manner, employing the same creative energy we use in our zazen to see ourselves clearly and never turn our gaze away. To develop such watchfulness to its highest level is our most important task.

It is through zazen that we nurture and develop this ability. Thus we can see the crucial importance of meditation in the insecure, ever-changing society of today. Zazen enables us to live in a way that expresses our true humanity, so that we can live and develop in accord with the truth.

One lifetime is not so very long. In the time you have left, live in the way indicated by Master Joshu when he said, “When you’ve finished your gruel, be sure to wash your bowls!” How brightly can you make your bowls shine? You have to work energetically and deeply on this! It is not someone else’s problem—only you can resolve it. Your life in this world is not someone else’s responsibility, it is your responsibility. To grasp this deeply is what Zen teaches us. If one person truly understands, then that person’s way of living will have a lasting effect on all of society.

The Path to Bodhidharma: the teachings of Shodo Harada Roshi, translated by Priscilla Daichi Storandt, Tuttle Publishing, 2000 (pp 52-67)

Next page:Words of Hakuin

These remarks are excerpted from course handouts given by Rev. Fujita at a workshop called “The Lived-Body Experience in Bud­dhist Meditation” he taught at BCBS in March, 2002.

There seems to be a common misunderstanding about zazen, which some people think of as a technique for reaching a state of “no thought.” Such an understanding of zazen assumes that a certain state of mind can be reached by manipulation, technique or method. In the West, zazen is usually trans­lated as “Zen meditation” or “sitting medi­tation.” More and more, in contempo­rary usage, zazen is considered one of the many methods from Eastern spiritual tra­ditions for attaining objectives such as mind/body health, skillful social behav­ior, a peaceful mind or the resolution of various problems in life.

It is true that many meditation prac­tices in the Buddhist tradition are helpful in achieving these objectives, and these may certainly be skillful uses of meditation tools. However zazen, as understood by Dogen Zenji, is something different, and cannot be categorized as meditation in the sense described above. It would there­fore be helpful to us to look at some of the differences between zazen and meditation.

Dogen (1200-1252) was the founder of the Soto Zen tradition, and a medita­tion master par excellence. His Shobogenzo is one of the great masterpieces of the Buddhist doctrinal tradition. Contempo­rary scholars are finding much in this text to help them understand, not only a unique approach to Buddhadharma [the teaching of the Buddha], but also to zazen as practice. For Dogen, zazen is first and foremost an holistic body posture, not a state of mind.

Dogen uses various terms to describe zazen, one of which is gotsu-za, which means “sitting immovable like a bold mountain.” A related term of great im­portance is kekka-fuza—“full-lotus position”—which Dogen regards as the key to zazen. However, Dogen’s understand­ing of kekka-fuza is completely different from the yogic tradition of India, and this understanding sheds a great deal of light on how we should approach zazen.

In most meditative traditions, practi­tioners start a certain method of medita­tion (such as counting breaths, visualizing sacred images, concentrating the mind on a certain thought or sensation, etc.) after getting comfortable sitting in full-lotus position. In other words, it is kekka-fuza plus meditation. Kekka-fuza in such us­age becomes a means for optimally con­ditioning the body and mind for mental exercises called “meditation,” but is not an objective in itself. The practice is struc­tured dualistically, with a sitting body as a container and a meditating mind as the contents. And the emphasis is always on meditation as mental exercise. In such a dualistic structure, the body sits while the mind does something else.

For Dogen, on the other hand, the objective of zazen is just to sit in kekka-fuza correctly—there is absolutely noth­ing to add to it. It is kekka-fuza plus zero. Kodo Sawaki Roshi, the great Zen master of early 20lh century Japan, said, “Just sit zazen, and that’s the end of it.” In this understanding, zazen goes beyond mind/body dualism; both the body and the mind are simultaneously and completely used up just by the act of sitting in kekka-fuza. In the Samadhi King chapter of Shobogenzo, Dogen says, “Sit in kekka-fuza with body, sit in kekka-fuza with mind, sit in kekka-fuza of body-mind falling off.”

Meditation practices which emphasize something psychological—thoughts, per­ceptions, feelings, visualizations, intentions, etc.—all direct our attention to cortical-cerebral functions, which I will loosely refer to as “Head.” Most meditation, as we conventionally understand it, is a work that focuses on the Head. In Oriental medicine we find the interesting idea that harmony among the internal organs is of greatest importance. All the issues associ­ated with Head are something merely re­sulting from a lack of harmony among the internal organs, which are the real bases of our life.

Because of our highly developed cor­tical-cerebral function, we tend to equate self-consciousness, the sense of “I,” with the Head—as if the Head is the main char­acter in the play and the body is the ser­vant following orders from the Head. However from the point of view of Oriental medicine this is not only a con­ceit of the Head, but is a total miscon­ception of life. Head is just a small part of the whole of life, and need not hold such a privileged position.

While most meditation tends to focus on the Head, zazen focuses more on the living holistic body-mind framework, al­lowing the Head to exist without giving it any pre-eminence. If the Head is over­functioning, it will give rise to a split and unbalanced life. But in the zazen posture it learns to find its proper place and function within a unified mind-body field. Our living human body is not just a collection of bodily parts, but is an organically inte­grated whole. It is designed in such a way that when one part of the body moves, however subtle the movement may be, it simultaneously causes the whole body to move in accordance with it.

“Just sitting with correct posture’’gets deepened infinitely.

When we first learn how to do zazen, we cannot learn it as a whole or in a single stroke. Inevitably we initially dissect zazen into small pieces and then arrange them in a certain sequence: regulating the body (choshin), regulating the breath (chosoku) and regulating the mind (choshin). In the Eihei-koroku Dogen wrote, “In our zazen, it is of primary importance to sit in the correct posture. Next, regulate the breath and calm down.”

But after going through this prelimi­nary stage, all instructions given as sepa­rate pieces in space and time must be in­tegrated as a whole in the body-mind of the practitioner of zazen. When zazen becomes zazen, shoshin-taza is actualized. This means “just (tan) sitting (za) with cor­rect (sho) bodily (shin) posture, with the “taza” emphasizing the quality of being whole and one in time and space. The “whole” of zazen must be integrated as “one” sitting. In other words, zazen must become “Zazen, Whole and One.”

How is this quality of being whole and one manifest in the sitting posture of zazen? When zazen is deeply integrated, the practitioner does not feel that each part of her/his body is separate from the oth­ers and is independently doing its job here and there in the body. The practitioner is not engaged in doing many different things in different places in the body by following the various instructions on how to regulate the body. In reality s/he is doing only one thing to continuously aim at the cor­rect sitting posture with the whole body.

So in the actual experience of the prac­titioner, there is only a simple and harmo­niously integrated sitting posture. S/he feels the cross-legged posture, the cosmic mudra, the half-opened eyes, etc., as local manifestations of the sitting posture be­ing whole and one. While each part of the body is functioning in its own unique way, as a whole body they are fully inte­grated into the state of being one. It is experienced as if all boundaries or divi­sions among the bodily parts have van­ished, and all parts are embraced by and melted into one complete gesture of flesh and bone. We sometimes feel during zazen that our hands or legs have vanished or gone away.

The term “shoshin-taza” might be best understood in terms of posture and grav­ity. All things on the ground are always pulled toward the center of the earth by gravity. Within this field of gravity, every form of life has survived by harmoniz­ing itself with gravity in various ways. We human beings attained upright posture, standing with the central axis of the body vertically, after a long evolutionary pro­cess. The upright posture is “anti-gravita­tional,” insofar as it cannot exist without uniquely human intentions and volitions that operate subliminally to keep the body upright. When we are sick or fatigued, we find it difficult to maintain the upright posture and lie down. In such situations the intention to stand upright is not op­erational.

Zazen Meditation Buddhism

Although the vertical posture is anti-gravitational from one perspective, it can be properly aligned to be “pro-gravita­tional,” i.e. to follow gravity. When the body is tilted, certain muscles will become tense in order to maintain the upright pos­ture; but if various parts of the body are integrated correctly along a vertical line, the weight is supported by the skeletal frame and unnecessary tension in the muscles is released. The whole body then submits to the direction of gravity. The subtlety of the sitting posture seems to lie in the fact that “anti-gravitational” and “pro-gravitational” states, which may seem contradictory at first glance, coexist quite naturally. Our relationship to grav­ity in shoshin-tanza is neither an anti-gravi­tational way of fighting with gravity through tense muscles and a stiff body, nor a pro-gravitational way of being defeated by gravity with flaccid muscles and a limp body.

In shoshin-tanza, while the body sits immovably like a mountain, the internal body is released, unwound and relaxed in every corner. Like an “egg balanced on end,” the outer structure remains strong and firm while the inside is fluid, calm and at ease. Except for minimally necessary muscles, everything is quietly at rest. The more relaxed the muscles, the more sensible one can be, and the relationship with gravity will be adjusted more and more minutely. The more the muscles are allowed to relax, the more precise aware­ness becomes—and shoshin-tanza gets deepened infinitely.

In zazen we move from the head to the heart and into our Buddha-nature.

I often find that people think of zazen as a solution to personal sufferings and problems or the cultivation of an indi­vidual. But a different perspective on zazen is provided by Kodo Sawaki Roshi’s words, “Zazen is to tune into the universe.” The posture of zazen is connecting us to the whole universe. As Shigeo Michi, a well-known anatomist of the last century, puts it, “Since zazen is the posture in which a human being does nothing for the sake of a human being, the human being is freed from being a human being and be­comes a Buddha.” (Songs of LifePaeans to Zazen by Daiji Kobayashi).

Michi also asks us to make a distinc­tion between the “Head” and the “Heart,” saying how in zazen our internal “heart functions” reveal themselves quite vividly. The Head that I have been talking about may correspond to the technical Buddhist term “bonpu” which means ordinary human being. A bonpu is a non-Buddha, a person who is not yet enlightened and who is caught up in all sorts of ignorance, fool­ishness and suffering. When we engage in zazen wholeheartedly, instead of keeping it as an idea, we should never fail to un­derstand that zazen practice is, in a sense, negation or giving up our bonpu-ness. In other words, in zazen we move from the Head to the Heart and into our Buddha-nature. If we fail to take this point seri­ously, we ruin ourselves by pandering to our own bonpu-ness; we get slack, adjust zazen to fit our bonpu-ness, and ruin zazen itself.

Dogen Zenji said, “[when you sit zazen] do not think of either good or evil. Do not be con­cerned with right or wrong. Put aside the operation of your intellect, volition and con­sciousness. Stop considering things with your memory, imagination or reflection.” Following this advice, we are free, for the time being, to set aside our highly developed in­tellectual faculties. We simply let go of our ability to con­ceptualize. In zazen we do not intentionally think about anything. This does not mean that we ought to fall asleep. On the contrary, our con­sciousness should always be clear and awake.

While we sit in zazen posture all of our human abilities, acquired through eons of evolution, are temporarily renounced or suspended. Since these capacities—moving, speaking, grasping, thinking—are the ones which human beings value the most, we might accurately say that “entering zazen is going out of the busi­ness of being a human being” or that in zazen “no human being business gets done.”

Zazen meditation timer

What is the significance of giving up all these hard-won human abilities while we sit in zazen? I believe it is that we have the opportunity to “seal up our bonpu-ness.” In other words, when sitting in zazen we unconditionally surrender our human ignorance. In effect we are saying “I will not use these human capacities for my confused, self-centered purposes. By adopting zazen posture, my hands, legs, lips and mind are all sealed. They are just as they are. I can create no karma with any of them.” That is what “seating up of bonpu-ness” in zazen means.

When we use our sophisticated human capacities in our everyday lives we always use them for our deluded, self-centered purposes, our “bonpu” interests. All our actions are based on our desires, our likes and dislikes. The reason we decide to go here or there, why we manipulate various objects, why we talk about various sub­jects, have this or that idea or opinion, is determined only by our inclination to sat­isfy our own selfish interests. This is how we are. It is a habit deeply ingrained in every bonpu human being. If we do noth­ing about this habit, we will continue to use all our wonderful human powers ignorantly and selfishly, and bury ourselves deeper and deeper in delusion.

If on the other hand we correcdy prac­tice zazen, our human abilities will never be used for bonpu interests. In this way this tendency will be halted, at least for a time. This is what I call “sealing up bonpu-ness.” Our bonpu-ness still exists, but it is completely sealed up. Dogen Zenji de­scribed zazen in the Bendowa (On Follow­ing the Way) as a condition in which we are able “to display the Buddha seal at our three karma gates—body, speech and mind—and sit upright in this samādhi.”

What he means is that there should be absolutely no sign of bonpu activity any­where in the body, speech or mind; all that is there is the mark of the Buddha. The body does not move in zazen posture. The mouth is closed and does not speak. The mind does not seek to be­come Buddha, but instead stops the men­tal activities of thinking, willing and con­sciousness. By removing all signs of bonpu from our legs, hands, mouth and mind (which ordinarily act only on behalf of our deluded human interests), by put­ting the Buddha seal on them, we place them in the service of our Buddha na­ture. In other words, when our bonpu body-mind acts as a Buddha, it is trans­formed into the body-mind of a Buddha.

We should be very careful about the fact that when we talk about “sealing up our de­luded human nature” this “de­luded human nature” we are talking about is not something which exists as a fixed entity, as either a subject or an ob­ject, from its own side. It is simply our perceived condi­tion. We cannot just deny it and get rid of it. The fact of the matter is that when we sit zazen as just zazen, without in­tentionally intending to deny anything, our deluded human nature gets sealed up by the emergence of our Buddha na­ture at all three gates of karma, i.e. at the level of our body, speech and mind. As a result, our deluded human nature is auto­matically renounced.

All the foregoing explanations—of renunciation, of sealing up, of deluded human nature—are just words. These explanations are based on a particular, lim­ited point of view, looking at zazen from outside. Certainly it is true that zazen of­fers us the opportunities I have been de­scribing. However, when we practice zazen we should be sure not to concern ourselves with “deluded human nature,” “renunciation,” or any such idea. All that is important for us is to practice zazen, here and now, as pure, uncontaminated zazen.