Without words: Doing Zazen to learn the right way

Excerpts from a series of reflections by Mariko Ikeda

First encounter:

“Why do you sit?” When asked this question, I do not have any clear answer. I have been living most of my life trying to find the truth. When I was in junior high school, I was given a copy of the Bible from my school. Every night I read it and made the sign of the cross in front of my chest. At that time I just read the Bible, I did not go to church.

Then one day, I felt that I could not live like this, and I stopped reading the Bible and threw it away. Because I thought that I could not live according to the way the Bible teaches. I wanted to live as I like, experiencing being lost and getting wounded on a sort of bumpy road, rather than living a life like running on a track like a train. Being young, I decided to live through a process of learning by myself, not by being taught. I wanted to live fully, experiencing that being lost and getting things wrong.

Since then, I have liked, and have been reading books that relate to Buddhism. I was attracted to Ikkyū Zenji and Ryōkan-san. That was why I started to be interested in zazen, I think. At that time, I was still in my thirties. However there was no place to do zazen nearby.

In my late fifties, I heard that there was a temple, not so far from my house, where an Abbot comes and does zazen. On the following day, I asked the person who told me to take me to that temple. This was in February, a very cold season. The temple was Tōshōji.

On the next day, after getting lost in the dark, I managed to enter the Zazen Hall. The Abbot, Seidō Suzuki Rōshi, was sitting alone. He did not utter a word. First I thought he was a statue. I wanted to say “I would like to ask your favour from now on to allow me to sit here.” But, after zazen, he did not say anything, not even asking my name. Without electricity and with only the dim light coming from candles, I was sitting shuddering with the cold. Although I covered my body and feet, my hands became numb with cold.

Since then, I started to commute to the temple every day. Why? There would be no point if I do not go there every day; that was what I was thinking in my own way. Still the Abbot had not asked me anything. At the time there was one American student doing practice. Just two of them were at Tōshōji.

Although Seidō Suzuki Rōshi never asked me anything, nor taught me anything, I felt his warmth coming down to me. I went there every day engrossingly. I had only early morning to spare because I have a job.

About Tōshōji:

At that time, Tōshōji was dilapidated. It was dark, old and cold. Still I felt warm there. Seidō Suzuki Rōshi was small and slim, and he was full of benevolence. I had a feeling that I had been sitting for a long time, but, at the same time, I also have a feeling that I have not sat yet. He had not spoken to me about sitting. He never told me that “zazen is good” or “do this way”.

Sometimes I listen to his talks addressing the practicing monks and learn the importance of straightening up the lower back. Probably he will never tell me about my way of sitting. In books, various people explain the benefits of zazen and how to sit, but I do not need these explanations when I am near him. Words become futile and are a hindrance sometimes. Doing zazen, this is the only way for me to learn the right way.

Seidō Suzuki Rōshi sometimes went away from Tōshōji. Later I learned that he was travelling around here and there to raise money for repairing the temple. This dilapidated temple was of the Sōtōshū and the number of Danka (supporting members of the temple) was only around ten. The temple was without any income. I could not do anything but doing zazen.

As time went by, the repairing of Tōshōji has progressed, with electricity installed in the repaired Sōdō (Zazen Hall), and now we have a stove in the winter.

Practitioners came from all over the world and Tōshōji became a Sōtōshū Training Monastery, without me even noticing. I am rather embarrassed by this. There is a huge gap between the work I have done while I was sitting and the project Seidō Suzuki Rōshi has achieved.

Now Tōshōji is magnificent. Since it became magnificent, many people come to visit and more people come for zazen.

There would be only a few people who still remember the temple which was dilapidated, had no electricity and had a run-down roof.

Translated by Kiyoko Isshin Taylor