Two Cushions, Two Traditions, One Restless Mind
I’ve sat on both sides of this fence, and I mean that almost literally. For about four years, my morning practice was Hong-Sau, the concentration technique taught by Paramahansa Yogananda through Self-Realization Fellowship. Then, for reasons I’ll get into, I spent two years practicing Zazen in the Soto Zen tradition. I still alternate between them.
What I’ve found is that these two practices, which look superficially similar, you’re sitting still, you’re watching your breath, you’re trying not to fidget, are actually approaching the mind from fundamentally different angles. Understanding those differences has deepened my appreciation for both.
Hong-Sau: The Focused Beam
Yogananda introduced Hong-Sau as one of the foundational techniques of Kriya Yoga, though it stands powerfully on its own. The practice involves silently repeating the mantra “Hong” on the inhale and “Sau” on the exhale, while gently focusing attention at the point between the eyebrows, what Yogananda called the spiritual eye or the Christ center.
“The Hong-Sau technique is the baby Kriya. By practicing Hong-Sau you develop your powers of concentration. Concentration is the key to everything.”
– Paramahansa Yogananda, “Lessons from Self-Realization Fellowship,” Lesson 22
The mantra itself is said to be the natural sound of the breath, “Hong” being the vibration of inhalation and “Sau” the vibration of exhalation. You’re not imposing something artificial on the breath; you’re attuning to what’s already there.
What makes Hong-Sau distinctive is its progressive deepening. As concentration intensifies, the breath naturally slows. Yogananda taught that in deep Hong-Sau practice, the breath can become so subtle that it nearly stops, and in that breathless state, the mind becomes extraordinarily still. The practitioner isn’t forcing the breath to stop; they’re concentrating so deeply that the body’s need for breath diminishes.
I remember the first time I experienced this. About six months into daily Hong-Sau practice, there was a morning where I suddenly realized I hadn’t breathed for what felt like thirty seconds. No discomfort. No panic. Just a crystalline stillness, as if the entire room had gone silent in a way that included sound but went beyond it. It lasted maybe a minute, and then my conscious mind grabbed onto it, “Hey, this is happening!”, and it dissolved.
Zazen: The Open Field
Zazen, particularly as practiced in the Soto Zen tradition, takes a markedly different approach. There is no mantra. There is no specific point of focus, though beginners are often instructed to follow the breath at the belly or nostrils. The eyes remain half-open, softly focused on the floor about three feet ahead.
The instruction in Zazen is (at its core) to just sit. Shikantaza, “just sitting”, is the formal term. You don’t try to concentrate. You don’t try to achieve a particular state. You sit with whatever arises, thoughts, feelings, sounds, boredom, pain, without grasping at any of it or pushing any of it away.
“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few.”
– Shunryu Suzuki, “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind,” 1970
Where Hong-Sau narrows attention to a single point, Zazen opens awareness to include everything. The metaphor I’ve heard Zen teachers use is the sky: thoughts are clouds passing through, but you are the sky itself. You don’t need to do anything about the clouds. You just need to recognize that you’re not them.
My experience with Zazen was initially frustrating. Coming from Hong-Sau, where I had a clear task, focus on the mantra, focus at the spiritual eye, Zazen felt like being told to swim without water. What was I supposed to do? “Just sit” felt like no instruction at all. It took months before I understood that “just sit” was the entire teaching.
The Core Philosophical Difference
The deepest difference between these two practices isn’t technical, it’s philosophical.
Hong-Sau, rooted in the Yoga tradition, is goal-oriented. The goal is samadhi, a state of superconscious awareness where the practitioner experiences union with the divine. Yogananda was explicit about this: meditation has a destination. The techniques are designed to take you there, step by step, through progressively deeper states of concentration and stillness.
Zazen, rooted in Zen Buddhism, is goalless, at least in principle. The practice is not a means to an end. It is the end. Sitting is not preparation for enlightenment; sitting is enlightenment. Dogen, the founder of Soto Zen, taught that practice and realization are not separate. You don’t meditate to become a Buddha. You meditate because you already are one.
This difference has practical implications. In Hong-Sau, there’s a sense of progression. You’re getting better at concentrating. Your breath is slowing more. Your practice is deepening. There are milestones.
In Zazen, milestones are considered traps. If you sit down and think, “Today I’m going to have a deep meditation,” you’ve already missed the point. The practice is about letting go of the need to get anywhere, including the need to let go.
I found this maddening at first. My ego wanted gold stars. Hong-Sau gave me something to measure. Zazen took the measuring stick away.
What Each Practice Does to the Mind
After years of practicing both, I’ve noticed that they develop different mental capacities.
Hong-Sau builds concentration, the ability to hold attention on a single point for extended periods. This carries over into daily life in obvious ways: better focus at work, less mental scattering, an ability to stay present in conversations without drifting. The mind becomes like a laser.
Zazen builds equanimity, the ability to be with whatever arises without reacting. This carries over differently: less emotional reactivity, a spaciousness around difficult feelings, an ability to sit with uncertainty without needing to resolve it immediately. The mind becomes like a lake.
Both are valuable. Both address different aspects of the same fundamental challenge: the untrained mind’s tendency to be chaotic, reactive, and unconscious.
The Body in Each Practice
Posture matters in both traditions, but the emphasis differs. In Zazen, posture is paramount. The spine is straight, the chin slightly tucked, the hands in the cosmic mudra (left hand on right, thumbs lightly touching, forming an oval). Zen teachers will physically adjust your posture. The body is considered inseparable from the mind, if the posture is sloppy, the mind will be sloppy.
In Hong-Sau as taught by Yogananda, posture is important but secondary to the internal focus. You sit straight, ideally in a cross-legged position, but the real emphasis is on what’s happening at the spiritual eye. I’ve known Hong-Sau practitioners who sit in chairs because of physical limitations, and their practice is no less deep.
A Combined Practice: What I Do Now
After years of going back and forth, I’ve settled into a practice that draws from both traditions, and I offer it here for anyone curious about either path.
I begin with ten minutes of Hong-Sau. I sit, close my eyes, focus at the point between the eyebrows, and follow the breath with “Hong” on the inhale, “Sau” on the exhale. I let the breath slow naturally. I don’t force anything. This phase is about gathering scattered attention into a single, concentrated beam.
Then I transition. I release the mantra. I open my eyes halfway. And I shift into what is essentially Zazen, sitting with whatever is present, without manipulating it. The concentration developed in the first phase carries over, so the Zazen portion isn’t scattered and foggy the way it sometimes was when I practiced it cold.
I sit in this open awareness for another ten to twenty minutes. Sometimes it’s quiet and spacious. Sometimes my mind is busy and I simply watch the busyness without getting involved. Both are fine.
I’ve found that starting with concentration and then opening into awareness gives me the benefits of both practices: the laser-like focus and the lake-like equanimity. But I want to be honest, this isn’t endorsed by either tradition. A strict SRF practitioner might say I’m diluting Hong-Sau. A strict Zen teacher might say I’m adding unnecessary complication to Zazen. They might both be right.
Which One Is Right for You?
If you’re someone who thrives with clear instructions and measurable progress, if you want a technique with defined steps and a sense of going somewhere, Hong-Sau is likely your entry point. It gives the restless mind something to do, and the progressive deepening keeps the practice fresh.
If you’re someone who feels constricted by techniques, if you resonate more with the idea of letting go than with the idea of building up, Zazen may speak to you more directly. It asks less of you technically and more of you existentially.
Neither is superior. They’re different doors into the same room. Yogananda and the Zen masters would probably disagree about what’s in that room, but the silence they point to, the stillness beneath thought, the awareness behind the breath, feels the same regardless of which path brought you there.
I’m grateful for both. The discipline of Hong-Sau gave me a focused mind. The surrender of Zazen taught me to stop fighting myself. Together, they’ve made sitting down every morning the most important thing I do.
