Living Budo: The Zazen of Not Sitting

The Everything is Budo Practice of the Edo-Era Samurai Suzuki Shosan

Suzuki Shosan has long been one of my favorite “Zen” samurai, and I have, for some time, wanted to write a profile on him.  I think more budoka need to know about him.  He simply isn’t as famous or well-known as other writers (of Budo Zen literature) from the early Edo period, such as Musashi, Yagyu Munenori, the zen priest Takuan Soho (author of the Unfettered Mind), or Yamamoto Tsunetomo.  However, instead of writing a more “straightforward” profile of the legendary Tokugawa samurai, I have decided to write (either two or) three essays dealing with some of his viewpoints and “techniques” of Budo Zen that I think are important for modern budoka.  In doing so, I will also touch upon parts of his life that I think you will find interesting.

In an earlier essay, as part of my series translating and commenting upon Musashi’s Dokkodo, I briefly discussed Shosan regarding his views on “do not fear death while following the Way.”  But—at least for this particular essay—I want to focus, not on death but, on an aspect of Shosan’s Budo Zen that I believe to be indispensable for modern budoka: practicing Zen amidst everyday life.

Shosan was a contemporary of the men mentioned above (Musashi, Munenori, et al).  He fought in the battle of Sekigahara—often called the “Japanese Gettysburg” to give you an idea of the size of the battle, and the number of warriors/soldiers that were killed at it.  He then served under the first and second Tokugawa shoguns, Tokugawa Ieyasu and Tokugawa Hidetada, respectively, before “retiring” at age 42 to become a “Zen monk.”  (I put quotations around this because, although he trained under a little-known Zen master, Daigo Sochiko, and is often called a “monk” by historians and fellow Zennists, Shosan never actually received “inka,” or a “seal of ordination,” so he was never actually ordained a monk.)  Whatever was the “validity” of his ordination, it didn’t really matter because he was well-loved among the Buddhist population at the time, and he was often asked (by other monks) to give Dharma talks at their assemblies.  He also had at least a handful of students that trained under him.  In addition to his students—who were trained not just in Zen but in budo—he also traveled to various monasteries around (primarily) Edo, and, when he did so, he also liked to visit local farmers, fishermen, and regular “tradesmen,” offering whatever Zen advice he could that would help with their livelihoods, and just their day-to-day lives in general, to relieve their suffering and increase their peace-of-mind.  I write this tidbit so that you will understand that, for Shosan, Zen was useless if it didn’t help in daily living.  But he also believed that, if you did apply it to all aspects of your life, anyone could take up Zen—there was no need for a cloistered life.  Fishermen and farmers could take it up, as well as samurai and ronin.  For Shosan, it didn’t matter who you were or what you did for a living.  It only mattered that you practiced.

What many people find most interesting about Shosan is that he created his own Zen “style” that he called “Nio Zen” (which is sometimes also referred to as “Guardian King Zen” and “Fudo Zen”).  To keep it relatively simple, I believe you can break down the “core” of his Nio Zen into three distinct aspects:

1. Traditional Zazen.  As most practitioners of Zen at the time in Japan, Shosan stressed the need for “traditional” meditation pracice, either “standard” breath awareness, shikantaza (just sitting), or working with a koan.

2. Visualization techniques.  The first thing that made Shosan unique was his insistence of meditating upon an image of a buddha in addition to the traditional zazen.  But what made his “buddha-image meditation” really different is that he believed more “power” could be gained through meditating upon a “fierce protector deity” such as Fudo Myoo instead of the historical Buddha Shakyamuni.  (Hence, the sometimes used term “Fudo Zen” to describe Shosan’s zazen practice.)

3. “Takinakoe Zazen.”  The most literal translation of this would be “zazen in the midst of battle cries” and, although Shosan certainly recommended it in the midst of literal battle, this was his way of referring to, what his contemporary Zen practitioner Shido Bunan called, “the zazen of not sitting.”

For the sake of focus for this essay we will concentrate on the zazen of not sitting.  If you look at the three foundational aspects of Nio Zen above, I believe the one that Shosan put the most emphasis on is the third.  A lot has been written about his deity visualization techniques, but I think this is only because of how seemingly esoteric that part of his Zen is, not because it’s the aspect he believed to be the most important.  It’s simply the most fascinating to us because it seems so warrior-like, which seems to contradict how we think Zen should be practiced.  I think if Shosan was with us today, he would tell us that the most important part of his teaching is to DO the zazen of not sitting.

In one of his major works, the Roankyo, is this story:

The master (Shosan) said to his warriors, “You cannot be accomplished in any kind of art without exercising the power of Zen concentration.  Especially in Kendo you cannot use your sword without your concentrated and unified minds.”  Having said this, the master took up his sword and immediately took up a position with the tip of his sword pointing toward his opponent, and said, “Look!  This is the exercised power of Zen concentration.  But a swordsman only exercises his power of concentration when he manipulates his sword.  When he is without his sword, he loses his power of concentration.  This is no good.  On the contrary, the Zen man exercises his power of concentration all the time.  That is why he is never defeated in doing anything.

This clearly shows that Shosan thought zazen should be practiced “beyond the cushion.”  In his classic book on Rinzai Zen, Introduction to Zen Training: A Physical Approach to Meditation and Mind-Body Training, Omori Sogen, one of the few modern Zen masters who was also a master of Kendo, had this to say about this very passage: “When a bank clerk counts the number of bills, when the office clerk keeps his books, when the pilot manipulates his control lever, and when the bus conductor clips the tickets, all they do will conform to Zen Mind if they work in the spirit of zazen without sitting.  And thus the power of Zen concentration will be cultivated, promoted, and exercised in terms of practical work.  Then human life will be exhiliratingly and fully permeated with Zen Mind.  We always have to be alert enough to do everything in the spirit of zazen and with the concentration power of samadhi.”

When many people take up budo, they do it more as a hobby than a way of life.  There is nothing necessarily, or inherently, wrong with this, especially if that’s all you want from your budo practice; it can be a good form of exercise, and it’s certainly good as a way to “de-stress” from how chaotic life can be.  But if this is only as deep as your training goes, then you will never be able to fully take advantage of all that budo has to offer.  Budo has the potential to be truly transformative—that’s the reason I have the passion I do for training and writing about it—but only if we do all of the work that is required, and this includes integrating it into every aspect of our lives.  Or, at the very least, you must try to integrate it into all aspects of living.  This is all that any of us can really do.  And, yes, it really is that simple.  But simple doesn’t necessarily mean easy.

Too many times—and I wish I could say that it’s a symptom of “modern” culture, but I think it’s more a “symptom” of simply being human—when budoka think they are “taking budo seriously,” they are really just attached to it.  They spend too much time reading, discussing, or engaging in social media posts dealing with budo than they do actually practicing it.  And even if this does allow you to acquire some intellectual knowledge on the subject—which is also unlikely if you’re getting your information from social media—this knowledge by itself will not do anything for you unless you apply it in the dojo and in daily life.

Not doing zazen,

Is nothing but zazen itself;

When you truly know this,

You are not separate

From the way of the Buddha.

~Shido Bunan

For the remainder of this post, I want to offer some thoughts on simple, easy ways to apply this concept of the zazen of not sitting.  Sometimes, the philosophical concepts of Zen can be hard to understand due to their depth of meaning.  This is, overall, good.  Easy answers are rarely the truth.  But the practice itself that leads to this depth of realization should not be complicated.  It should be relatively simple, and relatively easy for any budoka to apply to their lives—it certainly doesn’t require that one be an “intellectual.”  But, as mentioned a couple paragraphs ago, “simple and easy” doesn’t mean that hard work isn’t involved.  As my grandfather always wanted to remind me: “nothing worth having comes easy.”   In other words, if it’s “worth” something, that’s usually due to the effort that is involved.  Budo, of course, is no different.

The first, simple, thing required is consistency.  If you’re not consistent, then it won’t matter how “good” you are, or how much potential that you have; that potential simply won’t be able to be built upon without consistency.  Harada Sogaku, an influential Zen master of the early half of the 20th century, in his Sanzen no Hiketsu, writes, “If the kettle is put over the fire and then taken off the fire, heated and cooled alternately, the water in it will never come to boil.  Those who resemble such a kettle are called kettle-minded pupils.”  I must confess that times in my life when I didn’t progress was because I was just such a kettle-minded pupil.  You cannot expect for your body, or your mind, to progress with any degree of speed unless you are consistent day in and day out, and, eventually (at least), from hour to hour.

Start your day, as soon as you can upon arising, with a meditation session.  Do NOT sit for longer than you think you will be able to maintain on a daily schedule.  You may want to sit zazen for thirty minutes every morning, but you know that your mind will really start to wander after about 15 minutes.  That’s fine.  Sit for 10 minutes.  Just don’t miss a single day, and you can slowly start to add minutes to it.  This is better than trying to sit for 30 minutes daily, but quitting every day at the 15 minute mark.  That reinforces failure, which you don’t want to do.  In this regard, be gentle on yourself, and add minutes as you can.  Eventually, you will reach 30 minutes with ease.

As soon as you finish sitting zazen, you want to get up and perform some form of “moving meditation.”  Traditionally, this is kinhin, or “walking meditation,” in Zen training.  But for the budoka, this should be the time when he performs kata, or a variety of basics, but slowly and mindfully, with full awareness.  Omori Sogen recommended this technique.  Here is what he had to say about it, “At first the power of concentration nurtured during sitting for 30 minutes may be lost in an instant as soon as we stop sitting.  But later we will be able to retain it for five or ten minutes by means of hoben (skillful means) and kufu (training).  (C.S.’s note: “skillful means training” is what Sogen Sensei called this way of performing katas.)  After much strenuous effort in our training, we will come to retain this power for a longer time, say, one or two hours.

“Master Choen Cheng-Yuan (a famous Chinese Zen master) of Hsiang-lin passed away at the age of eighty.  Immediately before his death, he is said to have remarked, ‘For the past 40 years, I have lived at one with everything.’  His words are indeed awe-inspiring.  It is very important to discipline ourselves to become one with everything, even for one day.”

So clearly, for Sogen, the use of the kata after sitting zazen is the perfect “gateway” allowing us to begin to bring our practice into all of our daily life.  In other words, the kata is the gate leading from zazen to the “zazen of not sitting.”

A question may be asked by you at this point: Just what is this “zazen of not sitting?”  Is it the same for everyone?  Just what should I feel while practicing; while washing the dishes, folding the laundry, washing the car?  First—and I believe this is very important to make clear—it’s not the same for everyone.  Ultimately, of course, it is the same, in that the “goal” is to constantly reside in and as your True Self, no matter what you happen to be doing.  But, more concretely, it should essentially be the same as your meditation.  If your “method” of zazen is counting breaths, feeling the rise and fall of your hara, for instance, then that should essentially be your practice while doing your kata, and then while carrying on your daily activities.  Conversely, if you are working on a koan, such as “Joshu’s dog,” or a hwadu such as “Who am I?,” then that too should be carried on in the kata or in daily life.  No matter the specifics of your practice of the “zazen of not sitting,” try your best to make your awareness spacious.  In other words, it should include whatever arises in your awareness—even if it’s the “messy” parts of your life that you don’t want to face—instead of excluding them.  Don’t try to “use” your awareness of your breathing to just avoid thoughts and feelings, even if they’re painful, as they arise, or as a means to “buckle down” or “white knuckle” through depressive thoughts.  Instead, when (or if) such thoughts arise, then just gently be aware of them while noticing the ways that your breath reacts to these thoughts/feelings.  In this way, these various sensations are seen as impermanent—as the breath itself is—and will dissipate of their own accord, without you doing anything to create this dissipation.  In the same manner, you don’t have to attempt to create a “peaceful” or “tranquil” state of mind during the day.  Simply do the zazen of not sitting as often as possible throughout your daily life.  Eventually, a peaceful, “calm abiding,” will arise on its own.

In many ways, the zazen of not sitting is both the easiest, simplest of things and the hardest, because of the constant effort.  But I have a feeling that’s exactly as it should be.

SOURCES:

Introduction to Zen Training: A Physical Approach to Meditation and Mind-Body Training, by Omori Sogen, Tuttle Publishing, 2001

Roankyo (Donkey Saddle Bridge), by Suzuki Shosan, talks compiled by his disciple Echu, 1660