The Sound of Silence

We are admonished time and again about noise pollution, and it goes without saying that noise pollution is a product of the violence of the twentieth century. However, even worse than the noise pollution in the outside world is the noise pollution in our own heads. We are constantly seized by all kinds of thoughts that float up, but our thoughts are invariably dressed up in words. My thoughts are clothed in Japanese, while the thoughts of Americans and Britons are clothed in English. I have heard that Japanese who have lived for a long time in America or the UK or in another English-speaking country sometimes talk in their sleep in both Japanese and English—so these people even dream in both languages.

Even though there are various languages, in the depth of these languages there is an underlying meaning. To be accurate, our thoughts are meaningful ideas, so perhaps it is correct to think that these meanings are clearly collected in these languages. However, while meanings are captured by language, since these words, when spoken, are without a doubt sound, when our thoughts suddenly float up into our minds, naturally the sound of the words must construct an image in our minds.

This sound further becomes a voice and then presents as a word. But even when no one is speaking, our minds construct various sounds that come and go in our heads. We have thoughts like the following: “What should I do? Maybe I should do this or that?” or “Maybe it’s like this or that?” or “At this point I guess that I’ll be able to manage somehow” or “It seems there’s a solution” or ”I don’t like that guy” or “I feel that she likes me” or “The next time I have some money, I want to buy that” or “That jerk stuck me with that job” or “I’m tired of living” or “I have a hazy feeling and can’t settle down.” As I said before, even if these thoughts and feelings don’t take the clear shape of a word or sound, they do form into meanings and construct sounds that thoroughly take on agreed-upon forms.

While meanings are captured by language, since these words, when spoken, are without a doubt sound, when our thoughts suddenly float up into our minds, naturally the sound of the words must construct an image in our minds.

Furthermore, I think that the form of this sound mainly has to do with grasping and rejecting, picking and choosing, hating and loving, and making discriminations and choices. That is, the sound of grasping at the world, the sound of rejecting the world, the sound of hating the world, the sound of loving the world, the sound of detesting the world, the sound of attachment to the world—these are, after all, the discriminating, dualistic sounds of the human experience. If we were to analyze these words, we would find they are the voice of our human nature calling out, grasping and rejecting, picking and choosing, based on measurements taken with our human yardstick.

In contrast, when we chant the name of Kanzeon Bosatsu (Skt; Avalokitesvara), we take refuge in the sound of the One Who Perceives the Sounds of the World. True perceiving, or hearing, as I explained previously, is something that happens before we grasp or reject, before we employ our yardsticks. Therefore, the sound that perceives the world is separate from discriminations and dualistic thinking and is the sound before we begin discriminating. It is taking refuge in the sound beyond our discriminating mind. Believing in and going forward by entrusting in the unity of mind and body—that is what is meant when we chant the name Kanzeon. In other words, instead of saying this or that and listening to the noise in our heads, we make a quiet sound, Namu Kanzeon (“I take refuge in Kanzeon”), and when we take refuge in this sound with our entire body and mind, wholeheartedly just take refuge in and become one with this sound, then calling the name Kanzeon (the Sound That Perceives the World) is actualized. Therefore, needless to say, chanting the name Kanzeon is actually not limited to calling out this particular sound. Also, the sound of chanting Namu Kie Sanbo (“I take refuge in the Three Treasures”—that is, in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha), or the sound of chanting Namu Amida Butsu (“I take refuge in Amida Buddha”), as long as the attitude of this chanting does not come from our selfish desires, all of these are the same as calling out the name of Kanzeon. The Lotus Sutra defines Kanzeon as follows: “By wholeheartedly calling his name . . . all would be freed, that is why the bodhisattva is named Perceiver of the Cries of the World.” In other words, that is why we call out the name of Kanzeon with an attitude separate from our petty selves.

If we think about this in a broader sense, we could say that even poetry and music are, to a certain extent, Kanzeon. There is a common Japanese poetic expression: “Keep sunshine in your heart and a song on your lips.” Indeed, we humans are often comforted by poems and music, and that is because they also are the sound that perceives the world—that is, Kanzeon.

But if we’re still measuring everything by our selfish human yardstick, then we say such things as, “No one is as unhappy as I. I was born like this; I never have any fun.” When we start to make this world-loathing noise, we inevitably drive ourselves into a corner. Can we call this self-induced sadism? With our thoughts we make ourselves unhappy because we are attached to the idea of trying to satisfy ourselves.

With our thoughts we make ourselves unhappy because we are attached to the idea of trying to satisfy ourselves.

We start making sounds like, “That guy doesn’t take me seriously. I’m insulted,” followed by “The next time I see him, I’ll tell him off. I’ll take my revenge.” At the bottom of all this is the desire to be satisfied, which fuels these feelings of anger and drives one to a terrible hysterical out-burst. Or else we say, “I’ve fallen in love with her” and “I want to make her mine.” All this noise begins with our picking and choosing, loving and hating, and our desire to be satisfied. We are driven by these feelings to the point that they are beyond our control. If at that time you relax your mind by listening to quiet music, for example, or singing a hymn or a Buddhist pilgrim’s song, even chanting a traditional recitation from Japanese bunraku, you cut off the noise coming from your discriminating mind. This music or song is wholly the sound that perceives the world. For sure, it is like chanting “I take refuge in Kanzeon.”

On the contrary, if we sing only when we are happy, then once dissonance breaks out in our mind we say, “This is no time to sing songs,” and we certainly forget about singing. Of course, that is not Kanzeon; it is just a pleasant hobby. The religion of Kanzeon is not a hobby or an idle amusement but is devoted to the problem of the self. But the self does not live amid this cacophony of love and hate and discrimination. The self is discovered within the sound that perceives the world. According to your attitude, hymns, choral music, piano, or symphonies can all be the sound that perceives the world; they can all become religion. But at the same time, depending on your attitude, God, Buddha, religious faith, and zazen can be only a hobby and a pastime. Among those who visit temples there are some who say things like, “I just love religion” or “Zen temples are really cool.” I have never met a truly religious person who says something like that. But I suppose it is natural for people who take religion as a hobby or a Zen temple as a sightseeing destination.

We understand that, from the standpoint of religion, it is more suitable to be plain or subdued rather than flashy or garish. The more our hobbies and amusements become showy, the more easily the plain and simple ones get mixed up and confused. For example, chanting Buddhist sutras seems to be more effective for delivering us from the cacophony of our conditioned human thinking and our propensity toward hate and discrimination than listening to music by a heavy metal rock band.

Suppose you are walking down the road feeling totally exhausted both physically and emotionally, and then you unexpectedly hear the music of a heartfelt and pure hymn coming from a church, or a lonely echo of a voice coming from a temple quietly chanting a sutra—somehow you feel nostalgic for the spirit of your hometown. Haven’t you experienced this?

A well-known Japanese poem says,

Although it is not yet snowing,
I am saddened by the snow-laden sky in this desolate wintry
     scene,
from inside a window,
I hear a solitary voice chanting a sutra.

I feel as if the world of sound is indeed shrouded in unfathomable mystery.

In the same way that such thoughts are liberated by sounds, it is also possible to sit in a posture that manages our body and mind. That is, [by] managing the posture of our bodies, we can divert our ever-present and unavoidable evil passions, carnal desires, and wild ideas.

By way of comparison, think about a dog that is always chained up and barks hysterically and becomes high-strung. This happens because the dog has no outlet for its excess energy. A dog that is not always chained and is freer to move its body doesn’t bark hysterically because it can appropriately dissipate this energy. In the case of a guard dog, I don’t know which is better, but it goes without saying that for the dog itself, it is better to be a free dog that is raised outdoors in more natural conditions than a pet dog that is kept indoors on a tatami mat.

Similarly, that is why it is good for young people to participate in outdoor sports. A young person who sits at home eating greasy food, absorbed in reading pornographic and prurient romantic novels or morbid detective stories, of course doesn’t have a decent outcome. Sports play a vital role in converting and diffusing this energy, and at the same time they promote the development of a healthy body and mind. For a refined or older person, quietly arranging flowers or preparing matcha (green tea) can have the same effect as sports has for a young person. Instead of spending time gossiping or badmouthing the neighbors, doing flower arranging or tea ceremony is much better. However, the important thing is our attitude. If we play sports just for the sake of maintaining a healthy body, or if we do tea ceremony just for the sake of tea ceremony, then we are managing our posture by perceiving the world. However, if we play sports to be victorious or to break records, or if we do tea ceremony to gain social status, then we are managing our body with dualistic thinking and for our own selfish desires. In any event, for the sake of religion it is better to engage in plain and quiet actions. Rather than doing sports, tea ceremony, or flower arranging, there is nothing better or more appropriate than sitting zazen in the full lotus posture as a way to perceive the world by managing our bodies.

If we find ourselves increasingly craving satisfaction and engaging in self-centered behavior, in the end, rather than letting these things become unmanageable, we can divert our minds by engaging in physical activity. That is a healthy and realistic way to resolve these feelings. Human civilizations in various regions [have understood] this since early times.

Sporting events in ancient Greece were originally consecrated to the gods, and we know that music in many cultures developed for religious purposes. Even tea ceremony began as a ceremony offering tea to the Buddha. Flower arranging began as offering flowers to the Buddha at a temple. In other words, these actions themselves are attempts to divert human delusions by physical actions, dedicated to gods and offered to the Buddha because they were thought to be suitable…

We lose the true meaning of practice if we think of it as only using our bodies as a handy means to transform our delusions or attain spiritual health. Instead, our practice just becomes the Sound That Perceives the World (Kanzeon) or the Zazen Posture That Perceives the World (the body of Kanzeon). It is just the sound of the universe and the dignified, pious posture that penetrates the entire universe.

We lose the true meaning of practice if we think of it as only using our bodies as a handy means to transform our delusions or attain spiritual health.

Truly, we must also say that Kanzeon is the sound of the self becoming only the self. And, in wholeheartedly chanting the name of Kanzeon and just sitting (shikantaza) we finally find the practice that allows us to return to the true form of the self.

“Even though I don’t perceive it, Kanzeon is functioning within me. Therefore, I wholeheartedly chant the name.”

In this practice, there is no human sentiment at all. Rather, human sentiment has been transformed into the sound that comes from the universe and into the dignified posture of the entire universe.

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Adapted from The Sound that Perceives the World: Calling Out to the Bodhisattva, © 2025 by Howard Lazzarini,. Reprinted by arrangement with Wisdom Publications.