There is something about the gut that draws us to it. If we want to hurt someone, naturally, we hit them in the gut. The Samurai would cut open their abdomen during harakiri (腹切り, ritual suicide by disembowelment).
Stomaches manifest many symptoms of acute illnesses. Butterflies in our stomachs reflect excitement or nervousness. Laughter, an auditory expression of positive emotions, is a physical manifestation of contractions of the diaphragm. All these phenomena appear in the center of our bodies, the place we call the belly or gut.
Our guts speak to us in ways we cannot ignore it; we’re called idiots when we don’t do “what our gut tells us.” In the West, we think of our gut as the source of our intuition. Somehow, somewhere in our bellies lies the ability to understand things without conscious or logical reasoning. We call this: our “gut feeling.” The idea that we can “feel” something in what otherwise physiologically is our stomach and intestines is not new to martial arts training, calligraphy, and Zen practice. It is crucial to develop such physical and mental sensations to have meaningful success in our training.
The “gut feeling” that all of us have experienced in one way or another has a specific location and name. Traditional Chinese medicine calls it Dantian (丹田 – TANDEN in Jp), the center of energy flow. There are many dantians throughout the body, but the one we focus on the most is the lower dantian located in the stomach region (HARA in Jp). It is not just the source of intuition but the center of our bodies, the residence of our energetic strength.
In traditional Chinese medicine, the lower dantian is located within the hara and in between two major acupuncture points: Gate of Origin (Ren 4) and The Gate of Life (Du 4). Ren 4 (located in the lower abdomen) is the seed of our pre-natal Ki (life force); the Ki before we were born. Du 4 (located in the lower back) is the source of fire in the body, the pilot light which ignites our energetic power. When patients are depleted, acupuncture doctors rely on these points to nourish the body, boosting their energy and blood.
Since the hara is the center of the self, both physically and emotionally, the martial artist finds their balance and gravity when focused on their hara.
Most calligraphers intend to meditate when practicing with the brush but fail to achieve such a state. We must fully engage with our hara, activating the lower dantian, to write calligraphy. As we lift the brush and inhale, air flows through our body, bringing energy to our lower abdomen. Such energy, therefore, radiates through our extremities, meeting the brush as it touches the paper. This energetic brush, which is full of KI, allows you to brush calligraphy free of thoughts. In Zen literature, this is known as MUSHIN or no-mind, the mind before existence. It is only the mind that doesn’t exist that can create something.
Contrary to what many people think, it’s not that difficult to pinpoint where your dantian is. Pay attention to it when you laugh or cry, for example, and how your belly engages your emotions. Breathe deeply through it and experience how other body areas become relaxed.
In Zen, we sit with the hara. In martial arts, we move with the hara. In calligraphy, we write with the hara. Next time you hear someone, or yourself, saying, “You need to put your heart into it,” instead think, “No, I need to put my hara into it.”