Out Of Our Heads - Into Our Bones
I remember Greene Roshi telling a tale during a cold winter sesshin. It was an ancient story about a Chinese lady attempting to save her family from almost certain death by running 100 miles through the night to arrive before the Emperor's swordsmen riding on horseback. The tale ends with the lady saving her family before the sworders ride up; as we are leaning into the story and marvelling at the wonders of this woman, Greene Roshi adds a further twist, telling us before she sits down to rest, she takes off the leaded weights she has been wearing attached to each ankle. I still laugh about this story now.
Early this summer, a small group of Chosei Zen students and I set out on an experiment to take our training out into the wilds of the English countryside and walk across the fells and hills of middle England. It was a tough nine days of walking Zazen, averaging 18 miles daily, carrying our kit, and camping. We were interested in how we might create sesshin-like conditions whilst immersed in nature and the outdoors. There was no rambling in the countryside; it was intense training.
We live in a world where noise has become a constant, providing us with many reasons to get caught outside of ourselves: radio, podcasts, books, and social media; the list is endless. What are we hoping to seek from immersion into the noise? We turn on or tune in, hoping the author, broadcaster, or presenter will provide the very thing we are looking for: the lost piece of the jigsaw. Our runner from the story above does not make the same mistake, and in her moment of crisis, she goes beyond what we might consider normal to keep herself connected and on task.
Yesterday evening, I came home from work to a beautiful autumnal evening. The sun was low in the sky, and about an hour of daylight was left. After six days in the bright lights of noisy hospitals and feeling tired, I knew I needed to be outside and rid myself of the excessive restless energy that had built up. From our long walk in the summer, I learned the healing value of nature combined with the intensity of walking Zazen.
I put on my walking boots and headed out. I wasn't off on a ramble or stroll; I was going out to do some intense training. The Chosei Zen way is to train in breath and posture through the practice of Zazen, and we can take our Zazen off the cushion and put our breath and posture into our gait. To maintain the focus, concentration, and intensity required in Zazen, I have set myself a few rules. However steep the hills become, I always preserve nasal breathing; this is critical. The mouth stays shut, teeth lightly held together. The teachings of Suzuki Shosan (16th Century Samari/monk) talk about the Samari glare, which is a game changer. Breathing, I glare on my inhale, and stare on my exhale. Maintaining this concentration level is essential and challenging when passing other walkers in narrow English lanes. I am training, and this is my Zazen it is not a casual, chatty walk. Rhythm is also essential; breath and foot movement will, at some point, sync and connect hara and nature; find a technique, i.e. counting or a mantra, and like Zazen, focus and concentration will take you deeper.
Zen training is 24/7, and it involves discovering any opportunities to get out of our heads and take our training more deeply into our bones. There is no easy route, silver bullet, podcast, book, or social media post that can get you there; only you.