Zazen at home, with one cushion and tea

I live in Kanazawa, in the house where I grew up. I came to zazen late, at fifty-three, when a neighbour took me to a Saturday morning sit at a small temple. I have sat most mornings since, and I am now seventy-one.

I am a layman, not a priest. I teach in the tatami room at the front of my house, where there is one cushion for me and, when someone comes, one for them. Most of my students are beginners who have never sat on the floor and are not sure what to do with their hands.

Everything I teach is simple: how to sit, how to breathe, how long, and what to do when your knees complain or your mind will not stop talking. I made a printed sitting guide so people can keep it open beside the cushion, and a log to mark each day.

In winter the gardeners rope the pines for the snow, and in the rainy season the moss garden drinks it all in. I write about both, because sitting always ends up in the weather. If you want to start, or begin again, you are welcome here.