Imagine, if you will, that you are out in the wind on your favorite road.  The sun is shining, the air warm, the sky bright and blue and clear.  Everything that had been troubling you seemed to vanish the moment you shifted into first, erased by the steady hum of the tires on pavement, the throb of the engine as you open up the throttle, the rush of the wind on your face.  You feel calm and peaceful, yet more aware of your surroundings than you have ever been.  Everything has a sharpness and clarity you rarely experience; you feel connected -- to your motorcycle, to the road, to the world around you.  It is as though something within you is now more complete.

In zazen, or the practice of Zen, there is a word which describes what Gunslinger is talking about when he writes, ". . .free your spirit by focusing only on yourself, your machine, and the open road."  The word is shikan-taza. Shikan means "nothing but" or "just," while ta means "to hit" and za "to sit."  Shikan-taza is a practice ". . .in which the mind is intensely involved in "just sitting" resulting in ". . .a heightened state of concentrated awareness. . ." as far as meditation is concerned (Kapleau, 61).  The concept of shikan-taza, when broadly interpreted as "mindfulness" or single-mindedness, may be extended to other activities as well.  When the mind is intesely focused on the moment, on the activity at hand, you may be said to be engaged in shikan-taza.

It is in shikan-taza, when the mind is calm, when the ceaseless waves of thought and distraction have quieted, that you may begin to perceive the world around you in a different, more direct way.  You may feel a sense of inner peace, a freedom from perplexity and disquiet, a harmony with your environment.  Such moments are called kensho, or enlightenment, the apprehension of the true substance of your Self-nature, at one with the world around you.

Zen has often been referred to as "the single-minded way" and may be likened to a road thousands of miles long.  The road is always the same.  The sights you see from the road will change, but you are always riding on the same road.  There is no beginning or end to the road.  There is no starting point, no goal, nothing to attain.  Just road.  Just to ride on the road is the nature of Zen practice.

As Gunslinger points out, riding a motorcycle is not about getting from point A to point B; it is an expression of who we are, of our true nature.  It is part of human nature to be active and as long as you are alive you will always be doing something; however, as long as you think "I am doing this," or "I have to do this," or "I must accomplish something," you are actually not doing anything. You have become more involved with thinking about the activity than with actually doing the activity; you have separated yourself from what you are doing.  When you give up, when you no longer want or expect something, or when you are not trying to accomplish something, then you are doing something.  In "Zen riding," what you are doing is not for the sake of anything -- you are simply expressing your true nature; riding is what appeases your innermost desire.

The true purpose of Zen is to see things as they are, to observe things as they are, and to let everything go as it goes.  To discover the meaning of Zen riding, you have to understand the meaning of keeping your mind on what you are doing NOW.

I suspect, though, if you ride you already have discovered the meaning of Zen riding, of riding with your whole mind and body.  As you ride, week after week, year after year, your experience becomes deeper and deeper.  You forget everything else and just ride.  You don't think about anything, don't expect anything.  You just ride -- shikan-taza.

When you practice Zen riding you become one with the ride. You ride in the complete calmness of your mind.  There is no "you," no "motorcycle," no "road," only the ride, encompassing all things and expressing your true nature, the nature of all things. You just ride.

By riding with this sort of understanding, you can improve yourself.  Your riding can encourage you in your everyday life, so that you can actually find the value of Zen in your everyday life, not just while riding.  Life can gradually become more meaningful, your experiences richer and more fulfilling.

Zazen is not a matter of one or two hours, or one day or one year.  If you ride, or cook, or work, or converse, or live with your whole body and mind focused on what you are doing, even for a moment, that is zazen.  Moment after moment you devote yourself to what you are doing; you limit your activity by concentrating on the task or activity at hand.  When your mind is wandering elsewhere, you don't have a chance to express yourself.  If you limit your activity to what you can do just now, in this moment, then you can express fully your true nature; you can be free.

This to me is the Zen of riding.  Shikan-taza.

Just ride.

Article: Thumper

Author's Note: I don't pretend to be an expert on Zen, merely a practitioner.  The above is merely the result of my reflection on riding as zazen.  You may take it for what it's worth or, according to Zen practice, don't take anything from it at all; simply experience it as you read it and move on.

If you find concepts difficult or confusing, this is only because Zen itself is difficult and frequently confusing, particularly if you're not familiar with it.  You may ask what is meant by "true nature," or "Self-nature," to which I would reply "Buddha nature," a subject on which volumes upon volumes have been written, and then only the surface of what Buddha nature means is scratched.

Don't think about it.  Just ride.

1. Kapleau, Phillip.  The Three Pillars of Zen: Teaching, Practice, and Enlightenment. NY: Anchor Books, 2000.
   
   
2. Suzuki, Shunryu.  Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind.  NY: Weatherhill, 2000.