Newcomers to the practice described by Shunryu Suzuki often discover that the first and most pervasive challenge is the activity of the mind itself. Thoughts proliferate, attention wanders, and there can be a strong impulse to try to suppress or control mental activity. Suzuki’s guidance is to treat this not as a failure but as the very field of practice: thoughts are allowed to arise and pass, while attention is gently returned to posture and breathing. Rather than striving to stop thinking, the practitioner learns to observe thoughts without judgment or attachment. This simple, unadorned “just sitting” becomes the antidote to both restlessness and the urge to manipulate inner experience.

Another recurring difficulty is the tendency to arrive with fixed ideas, expectations, and strong opinions about what Zen is and what meditation should feel like. There is often a desire for quick results, dramatic experiences, or some clearly identifiable state called “enlightenment,” accompanied by self‑judgment when these expectations are not met. Suzuki addresses this by emphasizing beginner’s mind—an attitude of openness, not‑knowing, and freedom from gaining ideas. Practice is presented not as a technique for achieving something special, but as the direct expression of one’s true nature in each moment. When the urge to compare, evaluate, and “improve” oneself is released, the sitting itself is understood as complete, regardless of how it appears.

Physical discomfort and the body’s resistance to stillness form another common obstacle. Pain in the legs or back, restlessness, and fatigue can easily dominate early attempts at sitting. Suzuki responds by placing great importance on correct posture: a stable base, upright yet relaxed alignment, and a balanced, settled position of the hands and gaze. Proper form is said to support mental clarity, while an attitude of gradual acclimatization and acceptance allows discomfort to be included in practice rather than treated as an enemy. Adjustments are made as needed, but without abandoning the basic discipline of sitting steadily.

A further challenge lies in the impulse to overcomplicate or over‑intellectualize what is, at heart, a very simple way. Many newcomers try to understand Zen primarily through concepts, theories, or analysis, and become entangled in doubt and discouragement when the practice does not match their ideas. Suzuki consistently redirects attention from abstract understanding to the concrete act of regular zazen: sitting, breathing, and meeting each moment as it is. By maintaining a steady, everyday discipline—whether the sitting seems “good” or “bad”—the practitioner gradually learns to trust the process itself. In this way, mental restlessness, expectation, discomfort, and self‑judgment are all addressed not by elaborate methods, but by returning again and again to sincere, uncomplicated practice.