#23 Kennin-ji Temple: Winter Zazen Experience

In the midst of our casual daily lives,
there are actually not many moments when the mind is quietly at peace.

From the moment we wake up until we go to sleep at night,
our consciousness is constantly directed outward, interrupted by notifications and schedules.

It is not that I am particularly busy.
Even so, there are days when I am left with an unexplained fatigue,
or an inexpressible sense of impatience.

It is not that I have failed at something,
nor is it that I have any strong anxiety.

It is just that a feeling of my mind not being at rest
has been faintly lingering.

Before I became accustomed to that state,
I wanted to stop and take a proper pause.

It was not to find an answer.
It was not to be evaluated either.

I simply
wanted time where I added nothing,
and rushed nothing.

On that extension of thought,
I found the winter Zazen experience at Kennin-ji Temple in Kyoto.

- The place called Kennin-ji, the practice called Zazen

Kennin-ji is known as
the oldest Zen temple in Kyoto.

Despite being located in the bustling area of Gion,
a restrained stillness spreads throughout the temple grounds.

Although it is a tourist temple,
the fact that it carries an atmosphere that feels like an extension of daily life
is impressive.

Zazen at a Zen temple
is not a time for gaining knowledge.

Adjust your posture,
feel your breath,
and just sit.

It is not about organizing your thoughts,
but rather the act of watching
as thoughts are born and fade away, just as they are.

In the Zazen at Kennin-ji,
there is acceptance alongside the rigor.

It is okay if you cannot sit well.
It is okay if distracting thoughts do not disappear.

Because that premise exists,
I felt I could surrender myself
even to the harsh season of winter.

・The beginning of Zazen at Kennin-ji in winter

Kennin-ji in winter is
quiet.

The sound of footsteps on gravel,
the faint rustle of robes.

These sounds feel strangely loud.

Rather than sight,
hearing and tactile sensations
come to the fore.

Entering the Zazen hall,
I adjust my posture.

Straighten the back,
tuck in the chin,
and lower the gaze.

In that moment,
the cold became clearly apparent in my body.

In a space without heating,
the cold air spreads evenly.

There is no escape.

When I focus on my breathing,
the inhaled air is sharp and cold,
and the exhaled air is faintly warm.

The difference is distinct,
and I am surprised
that breathing could be such a concrete sensation.

・Emotions that arise with the breath

Even when Zazen begins,
silence does not arrive immediately.

Rather,
thoughts become more active than usual.

"It's cold"
"Isn't it over yet?"
"Is my posture correct?"

Trivial emotions
arise one after another and demand attention.

Trying to do something about them
only makes me more restless.

Return to the breath.
Feel the weight of the body.

In that repetition,
there was a moment when my emotions
gradually lost their power.

Winter Zazen
is harsh on the body.

That harshness
forces concentration.

Without comfort,
there is no room for deception.

That is precisely why
what I am resisting
and what I am trying to avoid
becomes clearly visible.

Strangely enough,
after a while, the cold itself
ceased to bother me.

It did not disappear.
I simply
stopped judging it.

When I entered that state,
I felt as if my mind
had descended to a quieter place.

・The lingering effect of winter Zazen

Immediately after Zazen ends,
there is no dramatic change.

My mind is not sharper,
nor have my worries been solved.

However,
my body felt lighter,
and my field of vision felt a little wider.

It is not so much that thoughts decreased,
but rather that I felt a distance from my thoughts.

I do not have to react immediately
to the thoughts that arise.

That space
brought a quiet sense of peace to my heart.

What I gained from winter Zazen
was not an experience of "gaining" something.

Rather,
it is the realization that
"I don't need to add anything" and "there are moments when things settle on their own without trying to fix them."

That is the realization.

In our daily lives,
we tend to try to restore our peace of mind
through effort and self-improvement.

However,
there was a definite meaning
in simply sitting.

・The winter silence encountered at Kennin-ji Temple

The winter Zazen at Kennin-ji is
neither tourism nor ascetic training.

It is
a time like a quiet rest note, gently placed on the extension of daily life.

When you have become accustomed to being busy,
and are about to overlook
the restlessness of your heart,

you will remember
this cold air.

The time spent sitting in the cold
is not flashy.

Yet,
it certainly
remains within.

The winter Zazen experience at Kennin-ji taught me that the act of centering one's mind
is something more simple,
and practical.

When I feel like stopping again,
I already have more than enough reasons
to return to this silence.

[Related Article] To return to the tranquility of daily life

The stillness felt during winter Zazen
is not something found only in special places.

Even in the same Kyoto,
there is a sense of the mind being centered in a different way
during the time spent walking along the Kamo River in the morning.