Q & A: Facing the Wall On Formal Shikantaza Practice

Recently, I received a thoughtful message from a practitioner in Delhi, India who had read my short article “Just Sitting: Practicing Shikantaza in Everyday Life.” Though they had read hundreds of books on Zen and shikantaza, they shared that this simple two-page piece beautifully captured its essence. For those who practice regularly, they said, it was easy to relate to.

They posed a sincere and insightful question:

“Do you usually advocate facing a wall while practicing shikantaza formally? Of course, once fully immersed in shikantaza, the whole of life and living becomes practice. But I would like your view on sitting formally facing the wall.”

I’m grateful for this question. It’s one that others may have wondered as well, so I’d like to share my response here.

Formally, yes—I do recommend sitting facing a wall. The reason is to minimize unnecessary distractions. This practice is about directly encountering the essence of reality in this very moment. By reducing visual stimulation—objects or movements that might catch the eye—we allow the mind to settle more easily into presence.

Zen practice is ultimately a deep inquiry into the question: “What is pure reality?” Sitting quietly, facing the wall, without adding interpretation or judgment—this simple posture supports that inquiry.

After sitting for some time, the wall’s texture may begin to appear like a pattern, or the weave of a tatami mat may seem to shift. Such experiences gently reveal how what we perceive is often shaped by our own minds. This meditation becomes a way to see through illusion and rest in what is, just as it is.

Some people choose to close their eyes during practice, hoping to reduce distraction. But this, too, brings its own challenges. With eyes closed, internal imagery may arise, or drowsiness may set in—both of which can pull us away from the immediacy of now.

That’s why I recommend sitting facing the wall, allowing the gaze to rest softly and naturally, staying away from judgment as much as possible, and simply sitting as we are. We’re not trying to gain or fix anything—we are just resting in what is. This, as I understand it, is the heart of shikantaza.

As the practitioner so beautifully noted, Zen is not confined to the cushion—it is a 24-hour practice. Still, setting aside dedicated time each day to sit is essential. I encourage approaching that time with care and intention—shaping it into a space that nurtures presence, honesty, and gentleness.

With deep appreciation for all who walk this path,

Words and Photo by K E I K O Just Sitting: Practicing Shikantaza in Everyday Life