Why is Mushin (No-Mind) Important?
One of my favorite moments of practicing mushin (no-thought) with students during Fall Keishin was the students' reactions to watching my face through their laptop screens (see video): first, thinking thoughts, and then, focusing 100% outwards in samadhi (state of relaxed concentration of no-self). In the first state, you can say I was in the world of my head, trapped in the dualities of self/other and body/mind. In the second state, the students said they saw a real human being, “someone they recognized,” and my condition induced a change in them – they entered samadhi too. My eyes changed from dead (dull) to alive (sparkling). I hope we can agree there’s a big difference between the world of zombies (eek!) and that of real human beings.
Who makes this world? Is there any reason we can’t be in samadhi or mushin most of the time? I’ve heard a saying of Tanouye Roshi was, “Your problem is that you don’t trust your samadhi.” With training over time, sitting zazen in samadhi can become second nature. But, what happens when we interact with the world of things? I’d like to use this opportunity to talk about the difference between the words “samadhi” and “mushin.” Essentially, they are the same thing. Samadhi is often used to describe a (passive) state during meditation, while mushin is often used to describe samadhi in action, or the wondrous workings of a person that is transcending duality (e.g., mind/body, self/universe, life/death). So, the word mushin posits that we can be in this state in all kinds of activities.
I suggested in my last blog, How Can We Practice Mushin?, that you practice mushin while walking and doing other daily activities that you’ve done thousands of times, like sorting silverware. Maybe you’ve noticed: If you think thoughts during activity, a delay occurs while the action gets filtered through your mind, and you lose freedom. During Zen training, my habit of slow movement was pointed out several times: “Why do you move so slowly?” I thought, “That must just be me!” But, it wasn’t me - it was the thoughts in my head. I discovered that I could move at normal speed, or even quickly without thoughts.
Another activity that’s interesting to consider is talking. Do we need to think to talk? We can pretty easily tell when someone is talking in real-time from their heart, or hara. You know because you feel the words in your own body. Otherwise, you can observe a process like, “Hold please. Let me turn on the switch to start the machine upstairs.” As the person talks, you see the cog wheels turn and the telltale signs of mental activity, like gazing upward or to the side, or even furrowing the brow. The words lack impact.
It’s even worse during sanzen (interview with a Zen teacher) when the teacher asks a question. Panic ensues, and we think, “Oh shit, what’s the answer?” Even if we’ve practiced being in samadhi, it’s easy to fall back on the habit of engaging the muscle in the head. Instead, try what Tanouye Roshi said, “Use your breath and posture to attain samadhi, and watch your frame of mind.” From this position, let your teacher’s question launch like a missile, land in your hara, and answer it from there, without thought. How would this feel?
When I follow Tanouye Roshi’s instructions, my face relaxes automatically. My brain has a tingly feeling, but no gears moving. The hamster wheel stops. I let gravity pull out the remaining floater thoughts into my lower abdomen. But, can you answer a question from this position? Maybe you should try it. And relax (rather than clenching up). In the beginning, you will feel nervous and think “I need the sensation of those gears cranking up there” or “I need to feel like there’s a heavy bowling ball up there.” But, you just need more practice.
It’s important to note that a basic instruction for koan training (working with a question that must be solved non-rationally and experientially) is to put the question in your hara (lower abdomen). The answer comes from there, inside you, and not from your head. You need to learn to trust this process. You can use your whole body as your mind, and trust your samadhi.
We often advise students to cultivate samadhi and be in this state as much as possible. It’s this state that gets shattered, allowing you to see your True Self, as if for the first time. The Buddha became enlightened after sitting zazen for seven days and seeing a shooting star, which shattered his samadhi. Rather than looking outside for shooting stars, you should focus on cultivating samadhi and building confidence that the realization resides within. If you haven’t started sanzen training yet and are wondering, “Does this mushin stuff really apply to me?,” I’d like to give you a few other reasons to pay attention.
Being-in-mushin versus being-in-thought is the “inch’s difference between heaven and earth.” It’s the difference between the world of Buddhas and the world of ordinary men. This is a lived experience. When we ran the silverware mushin exercise during Fall Keshin, a student said, “Wow, huge difference! All my silverware is sparkly. It’s a different, sparkly universe.” Yes! But, it’s also the same universe you’ve been repeatedly rejecting for not being interesting enough. An 8th century poem from Ho Koji reads: “How wondrous this, how mysterious! I carry fuel, I draw water.” The mysteries and wonders of free creation are alive in mushin. You can insert whatever activities you want at the end of the poem because you create the universe.
One of the lesser known laws of the universe (like gravity) is that the state of no-mind can be transferred to others. We call it “transferring samadhi” but also talk in more serious terms about “giving fearlessness.” In the Buddhist conception, giving fearlessness is the deepest form of charity you can perform (the other two being: giving donations and teaching the Dharma, or truth). The basis of fearlessness is freedom from dualism (e.g., self/other, life/death), and it’s just as palpable as any gift you’ll ever receive. Thirteen years ago, my close friend, who was in her early 30s, died of cancer. In the process, she gave me fearlessness, which made me intensify my Zen training so I could give that gift to others. You can’t give fearlessness to others unless you manifest it for yourself. When you embody fearlessness, it’s transferred effortlessly to other sentient beings. They relax, slow their breath, become coherent and unstuck again.
I wanted to share these reasons why mushin is important for your own Zen training and the world. Please practice mushin often to experience it for yourself and give it to others. This topsy-turvy world needs it.
