Suzuki’s presentation of zazen begins with the body, because the body itself becomes the gateway to a settled mind. One is instructed to sit in a stable posture—full lotus, half lotus, or another steady cross‑legged position, with the spine upright and the pelvis slightly tilted forward so that the body naturally supports wakefulness. The ears are aligned with the shoulders and the nose with the navel, the chin slightly tucked so that the head is balanced and the shoulders can relax. The hands rest in the cosmic mudra: the right hand palm‑up against the lower abdomen, the left hand placed palm‑up on top of the right, with the middle joints of the fingers lightly touching and the thumbs meeting gently to form an oval. The mouth remains closed, teeth lightly together, with the tongue touching the roof of the mouth just behind the teeth. The eyes stay half‑open, softly resting on the floor a short distance ahead, neither staring nor drifting into sleepiness. In this way, posture, hands, head, and gaze all work together to embody composure and attentiveness.

From this grounded posture, attention is directed to breathing, which is allowed to be natural yet gradually becomes long, smooth, and deep in the lower abdomen. Breathing is through the nose, and at the beginning one may gently follow or count the breath, especially on the exhalation, as a simple aid to steadiness. The point is not to manipulate or force the breath, but to let it reveal a more settled rhythm as the body and mind quiet down. When distraction arises, the instruction is simply to return to the posture and the breathing, without struggle or self‑criticism. In this sense, the breath functions as a kind of anchor, but an anchor that is soft and unobtrusive rather than rigid or controlling.

The heart of the practice lies in the attitude of mind that accompanies this sitting. Suzuki characterizes it as “think non‑thinking”: thoughts, feelings, and images are allowed to appear and disappear without being pursued, suppressed, or judged. Rather than striving for a special state, one cultivates a “beginner’s mind,” a fresh, non‑grasping openness that does not cling to experiences or to ideas of progress. This is sometimes expressed as “just sitting,” in which there is no gaining idea, no hidden agenda, only complete presence in the act of sitting itself. When the mind wanders, there is no need for drama; one simply returns to upright posture and breathing, again and again. Over time, regular daily sitting, even for relatively short periods, allows this simple, unadorned practice to permeate one’s way of being, so that posture, breath, and beginner’s mind quietly support one another.