Natsume Sōseki’s Zen Training

(英訳：ChatGPT)

In 1894 (Meiji 27), Natsume Sōseki, then a postgraduate student at the University of Tokyo, spent about ten days undergoing zazen training at Engaku-ji Temple in Kamakura. While the exact reasons behind his decision remain unclear, it is certain that this experience had a profound impact on his literary works. From his debut novel, I Am a Cat, to his later creations, Zen phrases frequently appear in his writing. Particularly in The Gate, the final installment of his early trilogy, the protagonist, Sōsuke Nonaka, undertakes Zen training, described in vivid detail. This portrayal, unmistakably based on firsthand experience, attests to Sōseki’s own time in Zen practice.

A senior missionary I know once trained at the monks’ hall of Engaku-ji Temple. He remarked:

“When I was training at Engaku-ji, there was an elderly head monk who had reportedly witnessed Sōseki meditating there. I regret not asking him more about it.”

The following excerpts are taken from Volume 4 of The Complete Works of Sōseki (The Gate). The titles were added by the author of this commentary as explanatory aids. While perhaps unnecessary, it must be said that Sōseki’s approach to Zen practice was strikingly sincere—a sincerity reflective of what one might call his “Buddha-like mind.” Even today, Zen meditation halls maintain the same spirit as when Sōseki himself practiced. Dedicated young individuals pursue the path of Zen with the same earnestness. Engaku-ji Temple in Kamakura continues to draw practitioners of Zen from both Japan and abroad.

Sōseki’s Kokoro, a high school textbook staple, has reportedly sold over 7.5 million copies. The readership of The Gate is unknown but undoubtedly substantial, with many likely borrowing it from libraries. This novel, exploring the anxiety and shadows lurking behind human happiness, is also credited with introducing readers to Zen.

Entering the Monastery (The Gate, Chapter 18)

In his gaze, there gleamed a vitality beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. When Sōsuke first encountered those piercing eyes, it felt as though a naked blade had unexpectedly appeared before him in the darkness.

“Well, no matter where you start, it’s all the same,” the Zen master said to Sōsuke. “Why not contemplate this: ‘What is your original face before your parents were born?’”

Sōsuke did not fully grasp the meaning of “before your parents were born.” However, he concluded it must mean uncovering the essence of his true self.

Seeking the Way

He (Sōsuke) mustered all the courage he could and resolved to face the kōan. Where it would lead him or what it might bring to his heart, he had no way of knowing. Yet he clung to a faint hope: might this somehow save his anxious, fragile self?

Fleeting Thoughts

Various images flowed through his (Sōsuke’s) mind. Some were clear and visible, while others swirled like clouds, shapeless and obscure. Their origins and destinations were unknown. One image vanished, only to be immediately replaced by another.

Meditation

Eventually, even his still body began to feel the strain. Pain arose in his knees, and the straight spine he had maintained gradually began to curve forward.

Striving

After his meal, Sōsuke returned to his room and once again confronted the enigmatic question of his original face before his parents’ birth. He gazed at it intently but found it utterly nonsensical, devoid of any logical thread or direction for development. No matter how much he thought, there was no way to grasp it from any angle.

Conduct

At noon, Sōsuke met a lay practitioner introduced by Guidō. This layperson silently held out a bowl for Guidō to serve him rice, offering nothing but a gesture of gratitude and a silent bow in return. He remarked that this quiet and composed manner of action embodied the essence of the practice. The absence of speech and sound was said to stem from a spirit of avoiding disturbances to one’s thoughts. Witnessing such seriousness made Sōsuke feel a sense of shame about his own attitude since the previous night.

Perspective (The Gate, Chapter 19)

It was customary for anyone entering the Zen master’s chamber to perform three prostrations. The bow involved lowering one’s head near the tatami while turning both palms upward, raising them beside one’s head, as if holding something, until they were level with the ears. Sōsuke knelt at the threshold and carried out the ritual accordingly. From inside the room came a soft voice, “One bow will suffice.”　--- (Omitted) ---

The words Sōsuke, seated weakly before the master, could muster were brief.

“You must bring something sharper and more substantial,” the master immediately said. “Anyone with even a little learning could say something like that.”

Like a dejected dog slinking out of a grieving household, Sōsuke left the room, while the sound of a bell being vigorously rung echoed behind him.

Insight (The Gate, Chapter 21)

Sōsuke reflected alone in his quarters. When exhausted, he would descend to the kitchen and step out into the vegetable garden behind the house. There, he would crawl into a horizontal cave dug into the cliff and remain motionless. Guidō had said that allowing one’s mind to scatter was unacceptable. One must gradually focus, condensing to the point of becoming as solid as an iron rod. However, the more Sōsuke heard about such a state, the more impossible it seemed to achieve.

“It is because you already have an ulterior motive to force your mind into such a state that you fail,” Guidō explained further.

Realization

“Anyone can achieve enlightenment, provided they have faith,” Guidō answered without hesitation.

“When every part of your being—from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes—is completely immersed in the kōan, a new world suddenly manifests before you. Even at this stage, you have made considerable progress from when you first arrived. Your efforts in coming here have certainly borne fruit.”

Devotion

(Guidō) “The speed of enlightenment depends entirely on one’s disposition and does not indicate superiority or inferiority. Some find it easy to enter but later become stuck and unable to progress. Others take a long time initially but, when the moment of breakthrough comes, achieve it with remarkable clarity. You must never lose hope. Dedication is key. The late Zen Master Kōsen (Kōsen Imamura, 1815–1892, head of Engaku-ji Temple) is an excellent example. He originally studied Confucianism and only began practicing Zen in middle age. Even after becoming a monk, he failed to resolve a single kōan for three years. Convinced that his deep karmic debts prevented him from enlightenment, he would bow in prayer each morning towards the lavatory. Yet, in time, he became the great master we now revere.”

Entering the Gate

I came seeking to have the gate opened for me. Yet the gatekeeper, positioned on the other side, never even showed his face, no matter how hard I knocked. All I heard was a voice saying, “Knocking is futile. Open it yourself and enter.”I pondered how I might unbolt this gate. I devised clear strategies and methods in my mind. However, I found myself utterly lacking the actual strength to put them into practice.

Dialogue

吉富:

Although Natsume Sōseki's Zen training appears to have yielded no tangible results as depicted in The Gate, I believe that Zen had a significant influence on his later works. What do you think?

ChatGPT:

You are absolutely right. In The Gate, Sōseki’s own Zen training is reflected in the struggles and doubts of the protagonist, Sōsuke, and it is portrayed as having seemingly borne no fruit. However, examining Sōseki’s later works reveals that Zen philosophy and perspectives profoundly influenced his writing.

For example, themes of impermanence and self-inquiry, central to Zen, repeatedly appear in his later works such as And Then and The Wayfarer. In Light and Darkness, human relationships and inner turmoil are depicted with insights that suggest a multi-dimensional perspective and a recognition of the futility of superficial success and happiness—elements that seem to resonate with Zen thought.

Moreover, Sōseki’s literary philosophy of Sokuten Kyoshi (transcendence of self) also shows the influence of Zen. This philosophy, which seeks to move beyond egocentrism and align oneself with nature and the universe, bears a strong affinity to Zen’s notion of “no-self” (anatta).

While the immediate results of his Zen training may not have been evident, it is undeniable that the experience broadened Sōseki’s perspective and enriched the depth of his literary expression. The core influence of Zen is woven into the universal themes of “What does it mean to be human?” and “What is happiness?” that Sōseki explored throughout his life.

吉富:

This was incredibly insightful. Thank you so much.

ChatGPT:

You’re very welcome! I’m honored to have been of help. If you have any further questions or need assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. I deeply appreciate the opportunity to discuss Sōseki’s profound worldview with you.