Zen Calligraphy is my favorite style of Shodo. Although I firmly believe that learning the fundamentals of calligraphy is necessary to brush good art, I also enjoy the emphasis Zen training puts in developing bokki (ki of the ink or the manifestation of kiai in the ink) through breath and posture. This style of calligraphy does not emphasize the academic grounds of penmanship. Instead, it aims at capturing the kiai of the calligrapher with the power to spiritually move those who meet it.
I spend more time in the academic world of Shodo than in the Zen world Shodo. Running the website and attending the students of my courses and workshops requires me to devote more time to the rigidity of penmanship practice. Naturally, when I am free to brush calligraphy using the Zen approach, whether by myself at the studio or with a group during Sesshin or Zazenkai, my experience with penmanship is apparent. In fact, it is because I know how to hold the brush and brush kanji formally that I can let go of the form and fully transmit my kiai freely on the paper.
It is at that precise moment that my training becomes singular: Shodo is Zen, and Zen is Shodo.
Zen and Shodo have more in common than they differ. It is the reason why Zen training uses Shodo as another vehicle to tap into the essence of our humanity to reveal ourselves.
I’ve always found the following ways to be most common where Shodo and Zen see eye to eye:
You need heart. It is not by accident that the word KOKORO “heart” is one of the most commonly brushed kanji. In both, Shodo and Zen practice your heart is the main ingredient. It’s the salt of your dish. Without the heart, calligraphy is bland and mediocre. Zen without heart is punishment to the body. Shodo without heart is spilled ink on fine paper.
You need to reach deep into the essence of life: breath. The first meditation technique you learn is counting your breath. Concentrate with all your might and spirit on every breath. In Shodo, your breath concentrates in your abdomen— the energy created there is then projected to the brush. Each breath connects to each stroke. Big bold strokes are the results of long deep exhalations.
You need to tap into the state of no-mind. MUSHIN or “no mind” is a famous Zen koan and calligraphy. The goal of Zen meditation is not to empty your mind of thoughts, but to realize there is no mind and hence no thoughts. To produce calligraphy that’s a product of this state of no-mind one must completely let go of the desire to produce anything at all. That freedom will tap into the state of no-mind and produce a pure piece of calligraphy that’s a mirror reflection of the artist’s heart. This is very difficult when brushing Kaisho, or block script. Kaisho by nature is rigid and precise, and this is what makes it beautiful. However, it is only when I let go of the desire to brush perfect Kaisho that a truly beautiful Kanji emerges.
Your struggles make you cut through illusions. The perception that meditation is a relaxed activity performed in front of breathtaking ocean views is laughable. Meditation is hard. You need to commit. You need to cut through illusions, pain, doubt, anger, and frustration. The moment you try to brush a kanji for the first time you realize it will take time and effort. The moment you have to brush a kanji inside a grid will destroy any illusion that, because you bought a fancy brush or watch all my videos, you will brush amazing calligraphy. Overcoming these struggles will be the path of cutting those illusions and waking up to reality: life is hard work.
The rigidity of the practice is the path to liberation. The basics of calligraphy are strict. Kaisho or block style is all about learning how to brush the kanji precisely. No wiggle room. However, the skills acquired by mastering the rigidity of Kaisho is what’s needed to brush the more relaxed cursive style of Zen calligraphy.