Beginner's Mind and Inmate's Mind

Beginner’s Mind and Inmate’s Mind

Seeker, after climbing to top of mountain to speak with Zen master: “Please Master, tell me what is the meaning of life?”

Zen Master: “Don’t know.”

Seeker, after absorbing that: “are you saying to “not know” or that you don’t know?”

Zen Master: “yes.”



I have long been fascinated with the concept of Beginner’s Mind. I have read and re-read countless times Suzuki Roshi’s book, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind. The title itself is, if not a sort of koan, at least a mantra for a way of being in life.

At the time I joined the staff of The Wellness Community of Southwest Florida, facilitators were required to spend a week in training at the Santa Monica “home” facility. Before going, our Program Director, John, advised me to go in with “Beginner’s Mind” and I would get along just fine. At the time, I took this to mean “act like you know nothing.” While that strategy somehow worked (I was approved as a facilitator & worked at our Community for about 9 years), it isn’t a reflection of true beginner’s mind.

Here’s a way to get at “beginner’s mind.” Let’s look at “inmate’s mind” and see what’s on the other side.

This is adapted from John Tarrant’s brilliant little book on Zen koans, Bring Me the Rhinoceros. Adapted, because where he uses the word, “koan,” I am going to substitute “this work” – which can refer to any change process that you are in, including regular meditation, psychotherapy, retreats . . .

So, with apologies to Roshi Tarrant, here goes:

“This work relies on uncertainty as a path to happiness. If you set off after happiness thinking you know what you need, you will always end up with something that meets that need. The problem here is that when you are unhappy, it is as if you are in prison, and in that narrow cell you think of happiness with an inmate’s mind. You might imagine a more comfy cell, consider painting the walls a nicer color – rose, perhaps – and getting a new sofa. This work doesn’t support interior decoration projects. It demolishes the walls.”

It demolishes the walls. Imagine that. On the other side? The freedom of “beginner’s mind.” When all of our perceptions, attitudes, judgments, beliefs get blown away, by the power of a koan or though the moments of blazing clarity that come usually with our deepest suffering, or our greatest moments of courageous abandonment of the “self” we thought was “real” – then we are left with an empty cup, eagerly seeking for it to be filled.


Maintaining “beginner’s mind” is the work of mindfulness practice.

Today I went for a walk. I don’t need to go anywhere special to walk – my neighborhood and yours are filled with walkable spaces. Bored, you say?

Today, the wind blustered in from the south, the sky was filled with clouds and grayish light. Yesterday, slightly breezy, the sun beat down on the same path.

Today, the upswept leaves tumbled to greet me on my southbound path and raced me as I traveled north. Yesterday the leaves rested.

Today, many creaky sounds behind me might announce a bike about to pass or branches rubbing together (there were few bikes!). Yesterday my path was filled with friendly bikers and each bell was actually announcing the passing of a bike.

As I walked today, in and out of present moment awareness, a raindrop hit my chin – a mindfulness bell announcing a change in my environment. Was it the first drop around me? This I know – that I don’t know.

That single, not solitary, raindrop returns me to beginner’s mind – to this walk, to this raindrop, to this temperature, to this body – always different, always new.