Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind: Informal Talks on Zen Meditation and Practice

“When you sit in the full lotus position, your left foot is on your right thigh, and your right foot is on your left thigh. When we cross our legs like this, even though we have a right leg and a left leg, they have become one. The position expresses the oneness of duality: not two, and not one. This is the most important teaching: not two, and not one.”

Suzuki uses the full lotus posture to embody the key takeaway of avoiding dualism by fully inhabiting practice. “Not two, and not one” means that apparent opposites, self and practice, body and mind, function together as one activity. Practically, this idea can be applied by undertaking activities without splitting the experience into the task and your consciousness of performing it. For example, fully focus on an exercise routine without simultaneously judging your performance.

“What we call ‘I’ is just a swinging door which moves when we inhale and when we exhale. It just moves; that is all. When your mind is pure and calm enough to follow this movement, there is nothing: no ‘I,’ no world, no mind nor body; just a swinging door.”

Suzuki uses this description of breathing in zazen to illustrate nonattachment and non-duality. The depiction of the self as “a swinging door” while inhaling and exhaling dissolves the usual separation between inner and outer experience. The swinging door metaphor also emphasizes the importance of being present without exerting overt effort in meditation. The door swings back and forth naturally without outside interference.

“You should rather be grateful for the weeds you have in your mind, because eventually they will enrich your practice.”

Suzuki defines distracting thoughts, emotions, and self-concerns that arise during meditation as “mind weeds.” His assertion that mind weeds “enrich your practice” emphasizes the key concept of practicing without striving for purity or control. Their appearance does not indicate failure but deepens patience and humility, testing one’s ability to remain grounded in posture and breathing. Suzuki advises practitioners to allow mind weeds to arise and pass without interference.

“When you are determined to practice zazen with the great mind of Buddha, you will find the worst horse is the most valuable one. In your very imperfections you will find the basis for your firm, way-seeking mind […] those who find great difficulties in practicing Zen will find more meaning in it. So I think that sometimes the best horse may be the worst horse, and the worst horse can be the best one.”

Suzuki reinforces the key takeaway of practicing without gaining ideas or seeking achievement. His assertion that “the worst horse can be the best” conveys the idea that those who experience difficulty, doubt, and imperfection in their practice often undergo the deepest spiritual experience. Meanwhile, taking to practice with apparent ease can hide a shallow understanding or spiritual pride. Practically, this means continuing steadily even when meditation feels frustrating or when learning is slow.

“After zazen we bow to the floor nine times. By bowing we are giving up ourselves. To give up ourselves means to give up our dualistic ideas.”

Suzuki links the Buddhist practice of bowing to avoiding dualism. To “give up ourselves” means letting go of the habit of standing apart from experience. In practice, this can be applied by approaching a task or relationship with humility, setting aside the need to be right, to impress, or to be in control.

“After you have practiced for a while, you will realize that it is not possible to make rapid, extraordinary progress. Even though you try very hard, the progress you make is always little by little. It is not like going out in a shower in which you know when you get wet. In a fog, you do not know you are getting wet, but as you keep walking you get wet little by little.”

Suzuki reinforces the importance of trusting gradual, ordinary practice. His metaphor of imperceptibly getting wet in the fog presents Zen progress as subtle and cumulative rather than dramatic. Change happens through steady repetition rather than visible breakthroughs. Practically, this means continuing daily zazen or consistent effort at work without expecting clear markers of improvement.

“But as long as you think, ‘I am doing this,’ or ‘I have to do this,’ or ‘I must attain something special,’ you are actually not doing anything. When you give up, when you no longer want something, or when you do not try to do anything special, then you do something. When there is no gaining idea in what you do, then you do something.”

Suzuki underscores the key takeaway of practicing without gaining ideas or seeking achievement. When action is driven by “I am doing” or “I must attain,” the ego intervenes and divides you from the activity, creating dualism. Suzuki’s reference to wanting to achieve something “special” reminds readers that Zen is not focused on achieving peak states. Practically, this advice means practicing zazen, or daily activities, without self-consciousness or expecting reward.

“The most important thing is to forget all gaining ideas, all dualistic ideas. In other words, just practice zazen in a certain posture. Do not think about anything. Just remain on your cushion without expecting anything. Then eventually you will resume your own true nature. That is to say, your own true nature resumes itself.”

Suzuki again emphasizes the key takeaway of practicing without gaining ideas or dualistic effort. His description of resuming “your own true nature” emphasizes that Buddha nature already resides within us but is concealed by self-centered thoughts and concerns. Suzuki’s directive to “stay on your cushion” reiterates Zen’s prioritization of practical practice over theorizing and philosophy.

“To cook is not just to prepare food for someone or for yourself; it is to express your sincerity. So when you cook you should express yourself in your activity in the kitchen. You should allow yourself plenty of time; you should work on it with nothing in your mind, and without expecting anything. You should just cook!”

Here, cooking is an example of non-dual activity in everyday life. Suzuki describes the “single-minded way,” highlighting the key takeaway of finding meaning in everyday moments by fully inhabiting tasks. He asserts that when one stops rushing, multitasking, or aiming for praise, the activity itself becomes a complete expression of sincerity. Practically, this can be applied by giving routine tasks such as cleaning, driving, or writing an email, full attention without perceiving them as a means to an end.

“It is necessary for us to keep the constant way. Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine. If you become too busy and too excited, your mind becomes rough and jagged. This is not good. If possible, try to be always calm and joyful and keep yourself from excitement.”

Suzuki reinforces the key takeaway of Finding Meaning in Everyday Moments Rather than Waiting for Grand Revelations. He warns that busyness and emotional overstimulation create a constantly heightened state that makes steady attention impossible, whereas calm, regular engagement supports clarity. Practically, this means choosing consistency over bursts of enthusiasm. Maintain a simple daily sitting practice and a manageable work pace so attention remains smooth, grounded, and sustainable.

“When you do something, you should do it with your whole body and mind; you should be concentrated on what you do. You should do it completely, like a good bonfire. You should not be a smoky fire. You should burn yourself completely. If you do not burn yourself completely, a trace of yourself will be left in what you do.”

Suzuki’s explanation of leaving “no trace” emphasizes the key takeaway of approaching practice with a beginner’s mind. Leaving “no trace” means entering into activities without harboring emotions connected to past actions, such as pride or regret. “Burning completely” means giving full attention to the activity without holding back through self-consciousness, comparison, or concern about results. Practically, this can be applied by focusing entirely on a single task, such as writing a report and completing it without thoughts of how it compares to previous attempts or how it will be received.

“Because your attainment is always ahead, you will always be sacrificing yourself now for some ideal in the future.”

Suzuki warns of the key pitfall of seeking achievement rather than fully inhabiting the present. When attainment is always projected into the future, the present moment is treated as a mere means, and life is continually postponed. To avoid this mistake, notice when you are tempted to rush through today’s work or practice to reach a later payoff. Instead, choose to undertake the task carefully and completely.

“In Hinayana Buddhism, practice is classified in four ways. The best way is just to do it without having any joy in it, not even spiritual joy. This way is just to do it, forgetting your physical and mental feeling, forgetting all about yourself in your practice.”

Suzuki reinforces the key takeaway of practicing without gaining ideas or seeking achievement, even subtle ones like spiritual pleasure. He warns that seeking joy or inspiration in practice still centers on the self and keeps practice dualistic. Applied practically, this advice means consistently continuing zazen, work, or service even when it feels flat or unrewarding.

“When you bow, you should just bow; when you sit, you should just sit; when you eat, you should just eat.”

Here, Suzuki emphasizes the importance of limiting activity to achieve clarity of mind. His directive to “just” bow, sit, or eat means resisting multitasking and performing even the most basic actions with full presence and attention. In practice, this can be applied by giving full attention to a task you would usually combine with another. For example, eat a meal without looking at your phone or listening to music at the same time.

“The purpose of practice in a particular place is to study ourselves.”

Suzuki emphasizes that Zen practice is a means of self-observation, not self-improvement. “Studying ourselves” means noticing how ego-driven ideas arise during practice, rather than analyzing the self conceptually. In meditation, this can be applied by observing intrusive thoughts that arise and allowing them to pass. In everyday life, notice your habitual reactions when facing challenging situations.

“A frog is very interesting. He sits like us, too, you know. But he does not think that he is doing anything so special. When you go to a zendo and sit, you may think you are doing some special thing. While your husband or wife is sleeping, you are practicing zazen! You are doing some special thing, and your spouse is lazy! That may be your understanding of zazen. But look at the frog. A frog also sits like us, but he has no idea of zazen. Watch him. If something annoys him, he will make a face. If something comes along to eat, he will snap it up and eat, and he eats sitting. Actually that is our zazen—not any special thing.

Suzuki underscores the key concept that Zen practice is “nothing special” and should not be elevated into a source of pride or separation. He dismantles the mystique often associated with Zen by suggesting that, by following its natural instincts, a frog may unwittingly perform zazen more sincerely than many human practitioners. Although it has no concept of Zen, the frog sits in a meditative position and responds directly to conditions without turning its actions into a spiritual identity or judging others. Practically, this advice means undertaking zazen without feeling exceptional or superior to others, and letting practice blend seamlessly into ordinary life.

“We should not hoard knowledge; we should be free from our knowledge.”

Suzuki illustrates the key takeaway of approaching practice with beginner’s mind by warning against clinging to understanding. “Hoarding knowledge” means undertaking activities with fixed ideas, which closes you off from direct experience. Being free from knowledge means letting it inform action without limiting perception. Practically, this can be applied by entering a familiar task without relying on past expertise. Respond freshly and allow new possibilities to appear, rather than repeating what you already know.

“When you listen to someone, you should give up all your preconceived ideas and your subjective opinions; you should just listen to him, just observe what his way is. We put very little emphasis on right and wrong or good and bad. We just see things as they are with him, and accept them. This is how we communicate with each other. Usually when you listen to some statement, you hear it as a kind of echo of yourself. You are actually listening to your own opinion. If it agrees with your opinion you may accept it, but if it does not, you will reject it or you may not even really hear it.”

Here, Suzuki emphasizes the importance of maintaining beginner’s mind during interactions with others. He warns of the human tendency to filter communications with others through the self. From this perspective, we are only open to ideas that confirm our own beliefs and worldview. Practically, listening with beginner’s mind means hearing others speak without judgment and setting aside the urge to be right.

“True communication depends upon our being straightforward with one another. Zen masters are very straightforward.”

Suzuki extends his advice on communicating with beginner’s mind, highlighting the importance of “straightforward” expression. Being “straightforward” means expressing oneself clearly without hidden agendas, performance, or the need to manage how one appears. Practically, this can be applied by stating your needs or concerns plainly at work or at home without justification, defensiveness, or persuasion.

“When we realize the everlasting truth of ‘everything changes’ and find our composure in it, we find ourselves in Nirvana.”

Describing the Zen concept of transiency, Suzuki reinforces the key takeaway of accepting impermanence and the fluid nature of experience instead of resisting change. Practically, this can be applied by meeting uncertainty or disruption, such as shifting plans at work or emotional changes in relationships, without panic or clinging behaviors. Trust that serenity comes from aligning with change rather than trying to control it.

“As long as we have some definite idea about or some hope in the future, we cannot really be serious with the moment that exists right now. You may say, ‘I can do it tomorrow, or next year,’ believing that something that exists today will exist tomorrow. Even though you are not trying so hard, you expect that some promising thing will come, as long as you follow a certain way. But there is no certain way that exists permanently. There is no way set up for us. Moment after moment we have to find our own way. Some idea of perfection, or some perfect way which is set up by someone else, is not the true way for us.”

Suzuki establishes the concept of letting go of fixed paths and future guarantees in order to fully inhabit the present. Hoping that a stable method, plan, or ideal will deliver fulfillment later keeps attention divided and prevents wholehearted engagement with what is actually happening now. Apply this advice by tackling an issue that you have procrastinated over in the hope that it will resolve itself at some point in the future.

“The important thing in our understanding is to have a smooth, free-thinking way of observation. We have to think and to observe things without stagnation. We should accept things as they are without difficulty. Our mind should be soft and open enough to understand things as they are. When our thinking is soft, it is called imperturbable thinking. This kind of thinking is always stable. It is called mindfulness.”

Suzuki defines mindfulness as soft, flexible awareness that avoids control or constant self-monitoring. “Imperturbable thinking” means a mind that can observe clearly without getting stuck in judgment, resistance, or fixed views. This frame of mind can be cultivated by observing your emotional response to a problem at work or in a relationship. Rather than acting on these feelings, assess what course of action a detached observer might recommend.

“To keep our practice in its pure form is our purpose. Sometimes I feel there is something blasphemous in talking about how Buddhism is perfect as a philosophy or teaching without knowing what it actually is.”

Suzuki emphasizes the importance of prioritizing lived practice over intellectual theorizing that turns Zen into an abstraction. Throughout the book, he repeatedly asserts that Zen can be understood only through the experience of continuous practice. Applied practically, this means spending less time attempting to grasp Buddhist philosophies and more time engaged in Zen meditation.