Zazen (3): A Somatic Approach to Right Mindfulness

It is sometimes said that zazen does itself[1]. The aim of such statements is twofold. First, they call attention to our tendency to arrogate all things to ourselves and to take credit where no credit is due. Second, they reinforce the dogma that zazen is not a skill that can be taught, learned or used in any way. Such admonitions are frequently coupled with statements intended to discourage goal orientation and striving for results. We are also told to apply ourselves to sitting with diligence and effort, to practice with the single-mindedness and energy we would muster if our heads were on fire. In effect we are enjoined to do, with utmost vigor, what cannot be done and, if it could be done, would not yield any result. What to make of this absurdity?

According to the traditions of mainstream Buddhism, mental clarity, acuity, and stability can be cultivated in a step-by-step manner that leads to awakening. The methods of establishing mindfulness and clear comprehension (satipatthāna-yonisomanasikāra) are characterized by schedules, indicators of progress, and scrupulous attention to detail in the manner of performance. Awakening is accomplished in stages.

On the face of it, there does not seem to be any comparable process in the life of the student of Dōgen’s Zen, which more closely resembles the Daoist traditions of Mind Fasting and Sitting in Oblivion. Kobun Chino has spoken of zazen as something into which the trainee vanishes. Nevertheless, experience suggests that the two “activities” have more in common than might meet the eye at a casual glance.

The instructions for zazen are simple. We are told merely to monitor posture to see whether or not the body is relaxed, upright, balanced and stable. All other sensations—thoughts, feelings, judgments, memories, etc.—are to be cast adrift. Attention is not so much focused as gently pressed into service in a rudimentary way. The beauty of this method is that we do not have to learn anything new. Everyone knows how to do what is required. We have been learning it since infancy. We already know how to find our various body parts, how to project the mental map upon the relatively amorphous mass of tactile sensations. But we don’t ever have to think about it. We just have to remember to check in once in a while.

Both zazen and the four primary methods of satipatthāna entail the harnessing of mindfulness and other mental faculties. Zazen differs from satipatthāna mainly in being less deliberate. With attention to posture as the sole task, mindfulness of the body develops naturally. There is no need to master the intricacies of technique. There are no elaborate protocols, no noting, no analysis.

In order to check our posture, we make use of a spectrum of bodily sensation—pressure, texture, muscular tension, and the propriocepts that convey a sense of balance and the body’s orientation in space. We do that in a way that does not require that we acknowledge each and every sensory event, though we are barely aware of them. In this kind of first-order awareness—a mere sensory presence—there is no imposition of higher-order interpretations. Zazen is therefore sensual in the most basic meaning of the word. As we acquire the habit of checking our posture many times a day, for weeks and months and years, we acquire a global, minimally-conscious awareness of the body’s sensory presence, its disposition in space, and the many subtle events occurring within that sensory-imaginal space.

Of course, we are bound to notice things because, although in zazen there is no other job than to look in on posture from time to time, we are evolved to be very good at noticing things. And so we will learn, for instance, that the bodily sensations associated with breathing in are not the same as those associated with breathing out, and we will learn a great deal else besides. We come to know a lot without necessarily knowing that we know.

To summarize: in Dōgen’s zazen, mindfulness of the body and feelings is acquired gently, without the extra layers of self-consciousness that build up in the course of constantly acquiring new skills, as is the case when training in the Four Methods of Setting Up Mindfulness. It is not just that zazen gets you out of your head. This way of “meditation” also has a notable advantage over satipatthāna, namely, that it is much less likely to reinforce the illusion of agency. I will have more to say about the phenomenon of self-attribution in a future post.

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[1] According to a story that circulates among students of  Shunryu Suzuki, a student came to him and announced that she had at last really begun to do zazen. “No!” replied the Roshi, “You must never say that. Zazen does zazen!” Is that sort of talk meaningful? Is it helpful?