Self-Forgetfulness
Today, I’d like to reflect on why we practice Zen in the first place.
By understanding the concept of practice (shugyo) in Zen, I hope to show that many seemingly unsolvable problems can, in fact, be overcome through a variety of focused trainings that sharpen our skills.
In his monumental work, Shōbōgenzō, Dōgen Zenji—the founder of Sōtō Zen Buddhism—left us a guiding insight:
“To learn the Buddha Way is to learn the self.
To learn the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be awakened by all things.
To be awakened by all things is to drop away your own body and mind,
as well as the body and mind of others.”
D.T. Suzuki, who introduced Zen to a Western audience, often emphasized that the core of Zen is “self-transcendence,” achieved specifically through “self-forgetfulness.” But what does self-forgetfulness really mean?
In essence, forgetting oneself—erasing the boundary between self and other—resembles the Indian philosophical idea of “Atman is Brahman,” the highest realm in which the distinction between individual and universe disappears. Ancient Indian texts teach that although reaching this state is extraordinarily difficult, it is the ultimate destination of human spiritual development.
In Zen, to awaken (or experience enlightenment) is also to forget oneself. This is not the same as a patient with dementia losing their sense of identity. Rather, it’s like an infant focusing single-mindedly on whatever is right in front of them. As children grow through infancy, childhood, and adolescence, the sense of self inevitably solidifies. We assert our will, question our purpose, and wrestle with our place in society. This process is natural, yet at a more advanced level, the boundary between self and the universe begins to blur again—an insight that emerges from a direct, intuitive understanding of reality itself.
This does not require retreating to a remote mountain or becoming a monastic. Many Zen masters repeatedly stress the importance of everyday life. Indeed, Zen is everyday life; everyday life is Zen. From this viewpoint, we might realize we aren’t truly honoring our daily lives. We are far from being “mindful.” Our minds swirl with anxiety and expectation; we are pushed and pulled by longing and fear, often not fully present, and all too eager to fill our scattered moments with quick, fleeting videos.
Yet by fixing our attention on what’s before us, mindfulness arises. When we concentrate, we tap into our innate potential. When we immerse ourselves deeply, we may even enhance our abilities without perceiving it as effort. What we truly yearn for is this profound state of focus—one that transcends purpose and process, values and judgments, and the dualities of right and wrong.
Long ago, we didn’t separate ourselves from the universe. In our first three years of life, we routinely had experiences where our sense of self was absent. In that state, we learned an astonishing amount in a very short time. If we can recapture that self-forgetful perspective, we, too, can continue learning and growing at a remarkable pace, no matter our age.
This is the essence of Zen and the aim of practice (shugyo). Through it, we forget ourselves and awaken our innate capacities—naturally, and effortlessly, simply by engaging in daily life with mindful attention. This is exactly why I created BrainDojo.
If you want to try BrainDojo, you can download it on the App Store.
