Fudoshin: Cultivating an Immovable Mind

“Attaining the way means attaining it completely with the whole body. With this awareness you should practice immovably.” ~Dogen Zenji

     In this essay—as odd as it might seem at first—I want to use a couple of quotes from Dogen’s classic Zazen-Gi (which can be translated as “Principles of Zazen,” and is itself a book within his larger Shobogenzo or “The Treasury of the True Dharma Eye”) to look at how we might, from some practical perspectives, have the correct mind while practicing budo, and that this mind will lead us to fudoshin, or “immovable mind.” How do we cultivate this immovable mind so necessary for the practice of true budo?
     To begin with, we need to have the correct attitude before we even start our training, and before every practice session that we undertake. Before you enter the dojo, dojang, or kwoon, you need to let go of the thoughts and worries of the day, and anything that is just bothering you generally in life. You may have already discovered that this is one of the great things about martial practice. It takes away your worries and cares, even if it’s just for an hour or two.
     Even if letting go of life’s worries comes more natural for you, you still need to set a clear intention before each practice session. Bodhidharma—the de facto founder of both Zen and martial arts in China, however much his life has faded into myth over the centuries—said, “Detach yourself from various things in the external world and inwardly your mind will not be agitated. By using your mind like a wall, you shall gain entrance into the Way.” This means that, before and during practice, we must cultivate detachment from things outside of the martial training hall, not allowing in thoughts that have nothing to do with our practice. To do this, we must set a wall, in Bodhidharma’s words, around our mind. A wall is a barrier that lets nothing inside.
     If you think of a castle wall—the kind of wall, I have a feeling, that’s intended in Bodhidharma’s quote—it would have a gatekeeper that mans the wall and keeps out intruders. You must set up a gatekeeper on the wall of your mind that keeps out intrusive thoughts during training. Tell your gatekeeper to not allow into the mind any thoughts that are not directly about your budo training, and to dismiss at once any such thoughts that do come into the mind.
     This simile of a wall and a gatekeeper goes back to the historical Buddha Shakyamuni. In the Majjhima Nikaya (“Collection of Middle-length Discourses,” part of the Pali Canon, the earliest recorded teachings of the Buddha), the Buddha says this when discussing meditation: “Just as a general is appointed as gatekeeper to the king’s border town, one who is sharp-witted and wise in making decisions, brave and resolute, of excellent council, who allows entry to the good and keeps out the bad, to ensure peace within and to control outside enemies; in the same way the noble disciple continually practices mindfulness, achieves right mindfulness, always recalling and not forgetting what was done long ago. This is how the noble disciple attains the ‘gatekeeping general’ of mindfulness, which removes what is evil and unwholesome and develops wholesome states.”
     What I find interesting, and quite informative, about these words straight from the Buddha (or, at the very least, as close as we can come to the actual words of the historical Buddha) is that mindfulness, or awareness, is not just about paying attention as it is often presented in modern Zen circles—what is sometimes referred to as “bare awareness” or “choiceless awareness” among some Zen meditators. Rather, it’s about being aware of the good, recognizing the good, letting in the good, and being aware of what is bad and rejecting that.
     We must be wise and skillful gatekeepers during our budo practice. Not unwise, unskillful ones. An unskillful gatekeeper may pay complete attention and be entirely aware of what comes through the gate and still allow all manner of ruffians and scoundrels through the entrance. That would be wrong awareness.
     During your martial training, it would be foolish to pay attention to your instructor with rapt attention but still not heed the advice given. If you’re performing kata or working on the basics—whether it’s by yourself or in class—it would be unwise to be completely aware of a bad stance or a bad technique but not fix it. Unfortunately, this is exactly what happens to many a budoka. Hopefully, assuming you have a good instructor, he or she will correct your mistakes in the dojo. Yet much of your practice, if you are to be successful in your budo training, is going to happen outside of the dojo. This can’t be helped. If you only practice at your training hall, you won’t get enough hours of training throughout the week. A dedicated practitioner must train many hours of the week while at home. If one hasn’t been paying detailed attention while in class, then the home training will, likely, do nothing other than cement bad technique, making it virtually impossible to fix later.
     Diligently pay attention while in class, setting up the gatekeeper of your mind to only allow in the good, and this can be averted. There is more to paying attention, however, than just following instructions well. You also need to have, eventually at least, constant awareness of your internal states. The states of your body, your breath, and your mind to be more succinct. We won’t get into all those aspects for the sake of this essay (I will save those for a future one), but I want to round out the discussion here by turning to Dogen’s opening precautions before one even begins practice. In Zazen-Gi, the master wrote:
     “First, awaken your compassionate mind with a deep longing to save all sentient beings. You must practice samadhi meditation with great care and promise to ferry these sentient beings over to the other shore, refusing to practice zazen only for your own emancipation.”
     This is the mind of one—in Zen and Buddhism—who aspires to be a bodhisattva, a spiritual warrior who cares for the suffering of all beings. You don’t have to be a Buddhist or a Zen practitioner to awaken this sort of vow. In fact, I believe that the spirit of what is being said here is good for all martial practitioners, no matter what religion you follow or even if you follow no religion at all. Otherwise, we simply become nothing more than fighters, which is, quite unfortunately, what a lot of “martial artists” have become. But martial arts without philosophy and spirituality is nothing more than brutality. So, awaken a mind that practices martial arts for the sake of others, and you will be on the right track.
     In the Zazen-Gi, Dogen also wrote this:
     “If the right faith arises in your mind, you should train in Zen. If it does not arise, you should wait awhile and reflect upon the fact that the Buddha-Dharma did not become part of you long ago.”
     If applied to budo, we might translate this as something such as: “If the right attitude toward budo arises in your mind and body, you should train in the martial ways. If the right attitude does not arise, then before you practice, reflect upon the fact that martial training has not been a part of you for very long.” This is not to say that one shouldn’t train in budo until the “correct” mind has been attained, one that is peaceful and only practices the martial ways for the sake of others. That would be unrealistic. We must admit that one of the reasons we may have taken up practice in the first place was so that we could learn to fight. And it’s okay if that’s still at least part of the reason that we train. But it can’t be the only reason. We must aspire to become warrior bodhisattvas. Sure, we can aspire to become butt-kicking bodhisattvas. I would even go so far as to argue that we must become that, but we must also do it, not for our own sake, but for the sake of others, for the sake of the rest of humanity, in fact. Perhaps that is too lofty of a goal, a goal that may be forever outside of our reach because of just how lofty it truly is. But we need something lofty enough that it is forever outside of our reach, pushing us each day to train more, to train harder, to train with a purpose that is—dare I say—almost divine. Without a purpose such as that, we will never attain fudoshin.

Sources
The Majjhima Nikaya or “Collection of Middle-length Discourses,” as translated by Bhante Sujato (found online at suttacentral.net)

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

Shobogenzo or “Treasury of the True Dharma Eye,” by Zen Master Dogen (founder of Soto Zen in Japan, 13th century), as translated by Sogen.