Ever since Shunryu Suzuki’s Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind was first published back in 1970—when very few folks in the West even knew what the heck Zen actually was; not that many know very much about real Zen even today—no telling how many Zen, Buddhist, or just “spiritual” books have been published since that time with similar-sounding titles. Plenty of them are outright rips on Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind by using a four-word title with two words followed by a comma and then another couple words to round it off. Just the other day I read one titled Zen Mind, Franciscan Joy in my personal favorite sub-genre of Zen, “Catholic Zen.” Heck, while perusing the bookstore a couple weeks ago, I even came across one with the title Zen Mind, Zen Horse that was apparently about the “spirituality” of horse training. When I saw it, I wondered what the ranchers and cowboys of my ancestry—Texans through and through—would’ve thought about such an approach. Although they would have known “nary a thing” (to use some Texan phraseology) about Zen, I bet they would have agreed that there’s a spiritual component between horse and trainer. The commonality in all of these titles, no matter what they are, is that Zen, or Buddhism, is an aspect of the mind, or how one “thinks,” and if you can add Zen “thinking” to whatever else—the Budo, general martial arts, strength training, yoga, golf, hiking, another religion, or even motorcycle maintenance—you can improve your thinking about (fill-in-the-blank) so that the hobby or whatever else you’re interested in can then be “improved” with your newfound Zen “mind.” Based on this understanding, the title of this essay should be Zen Mind, Budo Body but, as you may have guessed, I think this understanding is misguided even though that’s exactly the way that it’s approached by modern martial artists. The common understanding is that the martial ways, even the traditional Japanese Budo, are bodily practices and the way to make them “complete” is to add a little Zen philosophy. Martial arts for the body and Zen for the mind. But this way of looking at it, and then putting it into practice, seriously undermines the transformative power of both Zen and the Budo and it isn’t, I would argue, historically accurate.
Much of what follows builds upon other essays that I have written in this domain, as this isn’t the first time I’ve made the argument that Zen in general and zazen, seated Zen meditation, in particular is a somatic practice of the body and not the mind. This is also not to write that Zen doesn’t have anything to do with the mind. It most certainly does, but the transformation of the mind that Zen produces is a causal result of the somatic zazen. It is the mind that follows the body and not the other way around. Any athlete who has ever been in the “zone” can tell you this. It is their sport or physical discipline that produced that state of mind and not their minds thinking their way “into” it.
Zen Body
If you practice a martial art or even yoga, the best way to think about the practice of zazen is in terms of a technique or a pose that you hold in your discipline. Any poses from yoga would correlate. In martial arts, it would be techniques that you hold for an extended period of time, such as “sitting” in a horse stance (kiba-dachi), the deep front stance (zenkutsu-dachi), or even just standing at “attention” (musubi-dachi). When you are attempting to perform a pose or make your stance perfect, you pay the utmost attention to every detail of your body—posture, breathing, tension in your muscles, etc. Now, think of zazen in the same manner. The only difference is that you are holding this one seated posture for the entirety of the practice time, rather than moving from one technique to another. You are doing this one technique and nothing else. When you approach zazen in this manner, it becomes almost entirely a bodily practice rather than a mental one, just as it should be.
I was lucky, I suppose, in that my first exposure to zazen and Zen in general was not through reading a book or essay or watching some video about it on YouTube. In fact, I learned it when this thing called the internet wasn’t even in existence. At the end of a class that lasted an hour, sometimes two, we would sit zazen using the Soto Zen method of shikantaza while seated in seiza. (For details on just how we sat, see my essay To Kensho or Not to Kensho…) There was no doubt of the physical nature of zazen at that point. You were soaked with sweat, thoroughly tired, drained might be the best word, from an intense session of karate training. We were told to simply sit and empty our mind of thoughts. Looking back on it, it was (and is) a good approach for practicing meditation. After such physically strenuous training, your mind naturally doesn’t do much thinking. You are “in” your body without thinking about it. Outside of “emptying your mind” the only other component was to make sure that your physical posture didn’t “collapse” any. I had to constantly make sure that I was straightening my spine.
The best way to imagine posture in zazen is a string that runs from the base of your spine to the top of your head that is “pulling” your body into an erect position. Once your posture is correct, the only thing to do at that point is to be aware of the totality of your body.
In his book The Method of No-Method: The Chan Practice of Silent Illumination—Chan is the Chinese word for Zen and “Silent Illumination” (mozhao) is the Chinese equivalent of shikantaza—the Chan master Sheng Yen writes this about “just sitting”: “In just sitting, you keep your awareness on the total sensation of your body sitting there. Stay with the totality of that awareness; do not become caught up in any particulars. Being aware of the particulars of the body is practicing mindfulness, but we are not practicing mindfulness; we are practicing Silent Illumination. Remember also that you are not practicing mindfulness of breath. Breath is certainly a sensation, but it is merely a part of your total body sensation. You are practicing being aware of the whole body just sitting there with all its different sensations as a totality. Do not become caught up in these various sensations. Just maintain the totality of the sensations of your body just sitting. It is impossible to be aware of every part of the body sitting there. Just be aware of those parts that impinge on your senses. You do not need to be aware of the parts of the body you cannot sense, such as internal organs. Just take the parts of the body as a whole. The key is to constantly maintain this knowing and awareness of the totality of the body.”
When I first read Master Sheng Yen’s approach to shikantaza it resonated with me because I realised that it was already how I practiced. I just couldn’t have really put it into words until then.
In some Theravada and Tibetan meditation practices, there is emphasis placed on two distinct “parts” of the meditation session. The first is samatha—calm, tranquility, or peaceful abiding—and the second is vipassana—insight or “clear seeing”. I never cared much for that method, and reading Master Shen Yen’s approach, I realized why. Shikantaza is, essentially, both samatha and vipassana united as one during zazen. That’s the way it should be, I think. It’s not only the Zen way but it’s also closer to how the historical Buddha taught meditation when you read the Pali Canon. I think it’s clear there that the Buddha taught that samatha is what leads to vipassana, or the “insight” into the nature of transitory phenomena.
At this point, some might argue that, “Okay, that’s fine and all for sitting meditation. But what about in daily life when walking, sitting, eating, doing chores, or whatever? How do you practice this ‘body’ Zen at those times?”
Master Sheng Yen again: “You can also integrate these principles into all of your activities. Just as when you sit in meditation you just sit, when you sleep, be aware of the totality of your whole being going to sleep. When you walk, you just walk. When you eat, you are right there just eating. Plunge your whole life into what you are doing at that very moment and live that way… Some people may interpret plunging your whole being into the practice or into the task at hand as a very tense approach. This is incorrect. By putting your whole being into whatever you are doing, you are also being relieved from doing anything else at that moment. Therefore, when you are doing that one thing, that is all you have to care about.”
I would add that when you are practicing Budo, just practice Budo. When you are training, lifting, running, or doing any physical activity that aids your Budo, just do whatever that activity is. When you do that “whatever,” be aware of your whole body, the entirety of your being while doing so. And relax. Notice any part of your body that is tense while engaged in your activity, bring awareness to it, and relax it. The only caveat, of course, would be when you need to bring tension to a part of your body, or the whole of your body, while lifting. Tension is power. But it is even more powerful when preceded by relaxation.
Budo Mind
None of the above has anything to do with a particular philosophy or a way of thinking. It is, purely and simply, a way of being in your body that transforms your thoughts. Or, at the very least, aids in transforming them. Now, let’s look at some of the traditional “minds” of Budo philosophy.
I have written about some of these before. Several times, I have written about shoshin, or “beginner’s mind,” the very “mind” from Suzuki’s book Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind that I started this essay with. But that is just one of the various minds of Budo.
One word of note: These are often presented in various Budo dojos as very traditional, as if dojos in ancient Japan always taught “the five minds of Budo” or some other bull such as that. But that’s just what it is. Bull. Some ancients did teach them. Takuan Soho and Yagyu Munenori would be two who mention them in their writings. But the emphasis of these "minds" in Budo is a fairly modern thing. That doesn’t mean, however, that they aren’t important or won’t aid your martial training. It is similar to Zen in martial arts. Zen was not the traditional philosophy of the Japanese Budo. Instead, it was the domain of a few oddities in Budo, masters who happened to study both Zen and Budo, and realized that Zen could aid in transforming Budo practice. The aforementioned Takuan and Munenori would be such examples, along with Miyamoto Musashi, who is probably most responsible for the misconception that Zen and the Budo often went hand-in-hand in the traditional Japanese martial ways.
The word translated into “mind” in English is the Japanese word “shin.” The issue, however, is that it can also be translated into the word “heart.” Neither are adequate to describe the word. A better translation might be “heart/mind.” These are not just philosophical concepts for thinking but are ones that should transform your heart; perhaps even "spirit" or "Spirit" would be better translations for shin. Keep that in mind (pun not intended) as we discuss the 5 heart-minds or spirits of Budo.
Beginner’s Mind
The beginner's mind, or shoshin, came into the vocabulary of Zen practitioners through the publication of Suzuki’s book. “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities. In the expert’s there are few.” In other words, we must maintain beginner’s mind throughout our practice in order to continue to improve.
Nothing holds back a student of the martial ways more than believing he knows everything or is an expert in his art. This is most famously demonstrated in the story of the Zen “expert” who came to visit a Zen master. I’ve told this story on more than one occasion, and if you’ve been around martial arts or Zen—or, heck, even if you haven’t—you’ve probably heard it or read it yourself. But it is an important lesson, so I will repeat it here:
An American professor of Eastern Religions goes to Japan so that he can meet, and learn from, a well-known Zen master. Finally, after much traveling, he arrives at the home of the Zen master, who is expecting him. The master is serving tea. He gestures toward an empty chair in front of him, and the professor takes a seat. As soon as the professor is seated, he begins to go on and on about Zen this and Zen that. But finally, he does manage to tell the master that he would really like to practice with him, and attain enlightenment. The master says nothing, but pours their tea. He pours the professor’s cup full, and keeps on pouring, the tea spilling onto the table, the floor, and even the professor. “Stop! Stop! My cup is full!” the professor screams. “Then empty your cup,” the master says.
We must always empty our cups when we are in the dojo. Even if you are a teacher, you may learn something from your own students. Outside of the dojo, be open as well to other domains that you can learn from.
Lingering Mind
Zanshin is also translated as “remaining mind.” It might be the one that comes closest to describing, as well, our description of total body zazen above. It’s an unwavering, unbroken focus and awareness on the technique that you are executing. I actually prefer the perhaps slightly esoteric translation of “big mind.” And maybe that should be Big Mind. It’s not just an awareness but Awareness Itself which transcends and includes everything.
In his book Sword and Brush: The Spirit of the Martial Arts, noted Budo expert Dave Lowry writes this about zanshin: “The concept of zanshin is a complex one, integrating physical presence, technical skill, and emotional attitude. Vigilant calm. Action in repose. Mentally, zanshin is the quality of diffusion, a steadfast awareness of all that transpires without focusing on, and so being distracted by, any one phenomenon. Bodily, zanshin is expressed through a posture that is relaxed yet resonant with potential power. When an accomplished bugeisha moves decisively, his technique appears to vibrate past the conclusion of the action. Facing multiple opponents, his concentration is never arrested by one of the many. Both these occurrences reveal a state of advanced zanshin.
“The beginner is apt to mistake a fierce grimace and a stance of rigid aggression for zanshin. But such artifice is only a caricature that cannot be maintained for very long. It is too exhausting an effort, and it misses the point. True zanshin, developed over a lengthy period of rigorous training, is never so concentrated a force. It is not a tsunami, a single wave expended at one place in one moment and then gone. Zanshin is like a great ocean, bottomless and alive with latent, surging energy. Like the rhythmic pounding of its surf, which echoes beyond the range of its actual sound, the force of zanshin lingers on.”
No Mind
The concept of mushin—no mind, empty mind, or even not-mind mind (yes, that’s meant to be redundant)—was the one that I was most familiar with as a young budoka. It’s the one Budo mind that my sensei enjoyed most to wax euphoric over. He would go on and on about the need to “attain” mushin, to “fight without fighting” and to “think without thinking.” He didn’t want any of his advanced students to think when fighting or executing a kata. He simply wanted us to do whatever it was that we were doing and to just be.
When I first began to study Zen intently, I expected the concept of mushin to be prevalent. Not only was it not prevalent, I rarely read the word once. I had expected this because of the amount of times that my sensei discussed both Zen and mushin together. But I discovered that it’s a concept often discussed by Budo Zen practitioners, but rarely if ever among (what you might call) pacifist Zen.
Even though it wasn’t, and isn’t, discussed much by “traditional” Zen practitioners, it does have its correlates. It has much to do, for example, with the concept of shunyata or “emptiness.” Shunyata, among Mahayana Buddhists, is a central component of the religion. Without it, you don’t really have Mahayana, to be honest. I actually prefer the terms “openness” or "spaciousness" as translations for shunyata. The Zennist and budoka whose mind is shunya is one that is empty, open, spacious, and, therefore, free to be whatever and prepared for anything. But it is a mind that must be cultivated.
Immovable Mind
No-mind mind, when trained long enough, leads to an immovable and unchanging mind or fudoshin. A budoka who has attained fudoshin is composed, tranquil, and unshakeable when under pressure.
For many historical budoka, this was the mind that was most important. It was the goal and the summit of their practice. It’s also the reason that many took the Bodhisattva Fudo Myoo as their “patron saint.” Lowry again: “Fudo Myo-o, one of the protective deities of Buddhism, is portrayed in religious art brandishing a sword and a length of rope. The sword of Fudo cleaves through the torrents of illusion to expose crystal clear reality. His rope, metaphorically, is a lifeline keeping him anchored against the currents of capricious change. Fudo represents, for the bugeisha, the spirit of endurance. The kanji for the deity’s name make this obvious. Fu and do mean ‘without’ and ‘movement.’ Fudo is a saintly protector, steadfast and incorruptible. The bugeisha stands like that boulder in the stream. With the image of Fudo before him, he cannot be shaken.”
Enlightened Mind
The ultimate goal of both the Zen and the Budo practitioner is senshin—“enlightened mind,” “transcendent mind,” “awakened mind,” or “harmonious mind.” This is also the one that has the most confusion. When translated as “enlightened” it has as many interpretations as it has people that hear or read it. That is because “enlightenment,” the goal of Zen, Buddhism, Hinduism, and many other Eastern philosophies/religions—you might even hear about some “enlightened” Christian master—is thought of in different ways among all of the above.
At the website Budo Dojo, a site that writes about Aikido, for instance, has this to say about senshin: “Senshin is a spirit that transcends the first four states of mind. It is a spirit that protects and harmonizes the universe. Senshin is a spirit of compassion that embraces and serves all humanity and whose function is to reconcile discord in the world. It holds all life to be sacred. It is the Buddha mind and O-Sensei’s perception of the function of aikido. Fully embracing senshin is essentially equivalent to becoming enlightened and may well exceed the scope of daily aikido training. However, the first 4 spirits are probably attainable to any serious student through awareness and hard training.” I’m not sure about senshin as a “spirit that protects and harmonizes the universe, a spirit of compassion that embraces and serves all humanity, and whose function is to reconcile the discord of the world.” That does sound something straight out of the mouth of Aikido’s founder Morihei Ueshiba, however, so I understand why they would write that. Again, though, it shows how different it is thought of depending on the budoka’s religious orientation—Ueshiba was a follower of the Japanese “new religion” Oomoto-Kyu, founded in the 1890s, a syncretic religion that blended Shinto with Buddhism and even American “New Thought.”
For those reasons, I think that “harmonious mind” might be the best translation of senshin for the general practitioner of the martial ways. When you meet someone that is truly harmonious—always tranquil, calm, and at peace—you know it. It’s also a state that you can recognize within yourself when sitting in zazen or practicing in the dojo.
Body-Mind as One
Study Budo philosophy for your mind, for a way of life, and so that you have something “higher” than just developing your body as a standard for training. Do zazen as a whole-body, somatic, and physical practice. Train them separate or in one session together as a daily practice. As you do so, you will come to the realization that Zen and Budo are both body-mind practices. But stop with the thought that Zen is for your mind and Budo is for your body. You know better now.
If you enjoyed reading this essay, here are some of my past Budo Zen essays that you may find intriguing:
As always, even though this was outside of my normal strength-training pieces, if you have any comments or questions, leave them in the “comments” section below. If you have any personal questions regarding your Zen or Budo practice, you can always send me an email. I typically get around to answering my emails every couple days or so.
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