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My zen
Thoughts on Zen by Tyrone Pardue

There is really nothing special about Zen. Likewise, there is really nothing special about Zen and Karate-Do. I could write a long diatribe about the history of Zen and recite Zen poems or tell stories of great Zen masters or legendary Samurai and how Zen made them undefeatable. But I feel that it may be better to tell you what it means to me as a martial-artist. That way, it may have more relevance to you on your own journey.

When I was a boy living in comfortable, middle class Florida, and first heard my father talk about Zen I became fascinated by the seemingly contradictory language of Zen. You know; all that talk of the tree in the forest and the clapping hand. And then there was the Kung-Fu TV series with Master Po, Cane and all that Shaolin wisdom. There seemed to be gold at the end of the rainbow, happiness beyond the normal sort of happiness. Zen seemed so soft and cuddly. Martial-arts seemed effortless and serine. Then I moved to Ireland.

It was in Ireland that I started Karate in 1971, for very practical reasons – survival being the most important. My new home town of Clondalkin, on the West side of Dublin, was a tough place to go through your puberty, and getting through it with out a scar or two was pretty much impossible. Coming originally from a rather sunny and comfortable Orlando suburb to what seemed an almost savage place where you had people AFTER YOU for no better reason than the fact that you existed, was a bit of a shock. Zen sure didn’t work when you were getting your head kicked-in by a skinhead.

After a couple of close-shaves with life and death I joined a Karate class with a student of Tatsuo Suzuki Sensei where regular visitations from Iwasaki, Shiomtsu and Suzuki Senseis kept everyone on edge. Classes were pretty brutal along the lines of Nichidai style training. Typically, we had 5 minutes Mokuso (silence), a quick warm-up and then 30 minutes of basics followed by free-fighting or Kata. If you were late for class, Mokuso was a punishment, sometimes facing the wall for 30 minutes, or worse, being made stay there after class in Seiza not being able to move. I quickly began to realize that Zen and martial-arts as seen on TV was a myth. There was nothing serine or soft and cuddly about them.

During those years, I looked for the connection between Zen and Karate-Do as well as the meaning of Zen in daily life. I read books, sat Zazen and went to visit with Zen masters. I trained hard to find Zen, sometimes hurting my own body, or the bodies of others. I searched for the meaning of Zen in my own fear and the effort to overcome self-doubt and inertia. I searched for the ‘one-punch’ knockdown, and that beautiful moment when timing, breath and the world turning on it’s axis all come together with your movement to create the perfect result. I searched for the feeling of Satori, the legendary moment of enlightenment that may be either fleeting or long-lasting.

On occasions, I thought I had found the meaning of Zen. Feeling a sort of self-satisfied feeling, or a sense of elation, or personal power. Or feeling no doubts during of a fight, engrossed in the crystal-clear awareness one can experience in a life and death engagement. Now I expect nothing special at all. I know that feelings come and go, and that is OK. From a Zen perspective, there is nothing solid to cling on to, not even Zen.

As I learn to sit more correctly, I am waking up to the reality that Zen is not a magical potion or a secret way of becoming powerful or all knowing. It is not a feeling. Actually, it is rather dull and mundane. It is breathing in and breathing out. It is relaxing properly and sitting with your back straight. It is practicing Karate in a relaxed and natural way without striving to be better than the next person. Not striving to be stronger, faster or braver. It is being aware of your breathing and feeling the interconnectedness of ones self to everything else, including the opponent. It is constantly reminding oneself to relax, come back to your breathing and center into the Tanden.

Zazen has taught me an important lesson: to wake up. Not to allow myself to be ‘taken’ by fear, doubt or ego. To be totally awake is not an easy achievement. When you practice sitting silently with your back straight, alone with your breath, it is not easy to remain in the moment, undistracted by wandering thoughts or sleeping. When your legs become full of pain, it is difficult not to be overcome. In this difficulty during Zazen, if we train ourselves to wake up, to come back to the breath and the awareness of the present moment, we can become focused and sharp minded. We can be better at our job, our relationships and of course our Karate. Working with the mind and body in Zazen should be like Jyu-Kumite: concentrating on your breath and keeping centered, just observing the opponent without becoming fixated on what he is planning to do or what you are planning to do. From this position we can act naturally.

Essentially, Karate has absolutely nothing to do with Zen. It is Zazen that contains the entire meaning and essence of Zen. One cannot properly understand what Zen is about without it. Some people say that Karate people do not need to do Zazen because they can do Kata as a kind of moving meditation. But I don’t believe this. There is no replacing Zazen. Practice it properly and you can transfer the skill of mindfulness gained from sitting into your Karate practice, whether doing Kata, Kumite or Kihon. Just like you can transfer this special mindfulness into making scrambled eggs or driving your car. It is nothing special.