Mushin — The State of No Mind

Thursday, March 17, 2011 by C. Michial Jones

In the martial arts there exists a concept both simple in expression and endlessly difficult in attainment: mushin—the state of “no mind.”

Mushin does not mean that the mind ceases to function. Quite the opposite. It means that the mind functions so freely, so naturally, and so completely that it is no longer hindered by conscious interference.

When mushin is present, the mind moves from one thing to the next as water flows into every open space. It does not cling, it does not hesitate, and it does not become trapped. Because it remains unattached, it is able to fulfill whatever function the moment requires.

In such a state, logic and intuition are no longer separate processes.

They merge.

Thought and reaction become one seamless event.

There is no pause between perception and action.

There is only response.

This is why the masters of old spoke so often of the danger of allowing the mind to “stop.”

The instant the practitioner begins to think, What technique shall I use? or How should I counter this attack? the natural flow is interrupted. In that interruption lies stiffness. In that stiffness lies hesitation. And in hesitation lies defeat.

A mind occupied with choosing cannot act freely.

A mind occupied with judging cannot perceive clearly.

A mind occupied with itself cannot truly see the opponent.

It is much like a wheel: it revolves smoothly only when the shaft is not bound too tightly to the axle. Constrain its movement and its function is lost.

So it is with the mind.

When the mind is cluttered with thought, it ceases to hear clearly, ceases to see clearly, and ceases to respond clearly. Sound may enter the ears and light may strike the eyes, but true perception does not occur because attention has become imprisoned by internal dialogue.

One may be physically present, yet mentally absent.

The old analogy of still water explains this best.

When the waters of a pond are calm, they reflect everything around them with perfect clarity. Trees, clouds, moonlight, movement—nothing is distorted. In the same way, an empty mind reflects all movements without preference or delay.

But the instant a ripple enters the pond, the image is disturbed.

So too with thought.

One stray consideration, one moment of doubt, one conscious attempt to calculate, and the reflection becomes unclear.

The great difficulty, of course, is that once a thought appears, the effort to remove it becomes yet another thought. The struggle itself creates further disturbance.

Thus the task seems endless.

The more one tries to force emptiness, the less empty the mind becomes.

For this reason, the true practice of mushin is not the violent expulsion of thought, but the cultivation of non-attachment from the very beginning. Thoughts may arise, but they are not grasped. Sensations may come, but they are not held. Fear may present itself, but it is not entertained.

The mind simply passes through all things without stopping in any of them.

This, I believe, is what the great Zen master Nan-in meant when he said:

“Empty your cup first, so that you may taste my tea.”

A cup already full has no room to receive.

Likewise, a mind already occupied has no room to respond.

In combat, in training, and in life, the lesson remains the same:

The fullest mind is often the one that contains the least.

For only when the mind is empty of obstruction can it become full of awareness.

And only then can action arise without hesitation.

That is mushin.