Why Bother?

Welcome to the new Hara Development blog! We’re excited to launch this updated version, which allows us to engage more actively with our fellow “hara-seekers.” Please check out the new Q & A page and submit your questions via our Contact page, and don’t forget to click on the subscribe button to receive notifications about new posts and content. In addition to all this, I (Ellen McKenzie) will also start contributing more content and will assist in answering questions from our readers. 

As a first series of posts, I’d like to explore a question posed in the HaraZen workshop Kushner Roshi and I offered this past January. The question was, “Why bother?” In typing out the words, I can imagine it coming across as flippant or dismissive. I assure you it wasn’t. This question held a deep curiosity and longing to understand - why invest this time and energy in the hara? 

As a part of Kushner Roshi’s response, he noted that hara is the unification of a person's physical, psychological, and spiritual dimensions. This framing was not new and is reflected in the introduction to this blog, but that day it landed differently. It had more weight. I felt the truth of it and would like to help clarify this concept, which is simple in its presentation but complex in its lived experience.   

Kushner Roshi’s framing highlights a common way humans experience themselves - in multiple dimensions or layers. In this case, we’re focusing on three possible layers: physical, psychological, and spiritual. While we’re giving unique names to each, these dimensions are not entirely distinct from each other. If expressed as a Venn diagram, there would be a great deal of overlap. The point here is that hara development is a deeply personal process which, when taken to heart, will impact every layer of how we experience ourselves. 

The process of development is also non-linear, with some aspects developing slower or faster than others. But for most, the hara “onramp” starts as a physical process where we’re taught to increase intra-abdominal pressure and sustain it throughout the exhalation (what we call hara breathing). However, even at this early phase, more is happening. Over the course of two posts, I’ll use my experience to highlight the interrelationship and interdependence of the physical, psychological, and spiritual in hara development. 

For me, physically finding my hara and learning to perform hara breathing was counter-intuitive. As a long-time yogi, I had been taught to draw the belly back (towards the spine) and up (towards the diaphragm) on exhalation. This practice has both gross and subtle expressions; its purpose is to move energy (prana) upwards, facilitating a sense of lightness. The mechanics of hara breathing and the focus on moving energy downward, and keeping it down, felt like radical deviations from my prior training. 

Another personal challenge was the impact of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS), a connective tissue disorder where the body produces overly lax connective tissue (like ligaments and tendons). I’ve only recently been diagnosed, but hindsight clearly shows EDS’s impact on my early hara experiments. 

In my body, EDS results in a paradoxical experience of being highly flexible while also having localized areas of hyper-tension. The muscles around my neck, pelvis, and hips over-compensate for structural instability with tension. Essentially, my body knew how to collapse or be rigid, a very dualistic experience. 

My initial attempts at hara breathing involved recruiting more tension to push my belly out. This felt even more rigid and pulled everything downward. I felt tethered rather than grounded, and from what I understood about how hara was supposed to feel, this was clearly not “it.”  

Fortunately, I was introduced to hara at a time when I was also training intensively with TRE® and Hanna Somatics, both of which help the body release habitual tension. Hanna Somatics also helps refine the body’s ability to sense and control targeted muscles, which proved useful for unwinding my habits. After long sessions focused on awakening and softening my trunk, I began to tap into something different. This was an expansion that was supple and stable, an actively relaxed posture. 

At first I could only find my hara for fleeting moments, but these built on each other until continuity emerged. While hara breathing, I would notice my relationship with my senses and mind begin to shift. The corners of my eyes felt softer, my vision expanded, and colors became sharper. My mind quieted; it felt like waters that had been churned by a storm settled into a still lake. These developments were encouraging, but I was unprepared for where this would take me. 

During a long sesshin-style training period called SomaticZen, these shifts opened the door to a profound but ultimately overwhelming spiritual experience. I remember feeling my sense of self dissolve like mist into the ether. Even in my visual field, the boundaries between the people and things began to merge. 

For a bit, this felt like a welcome wonder, and I could feel the power of it building. I then remembered that I was assigned to teach somatics to the eight other SomaticZen participants and needed to be able to speak coherently in a short matter of time. Suddenly I felt worried and uncertain of my ability to “hold it together.” 

This experience was a bucking bronco, and I was just learning to ride. I ended up feeling vulnerable and emotional; I did not yet have the capacity or context to integrate what happened fully. I remember saying, “I couldn’t hold it; it was bigger than me.” 

I now see that experience as a foundational turning point in my training. I had physically tapped into hara, but the other dimensions (psychological and spiritual) were not adequately developed. Thankfully, the experience motivated me to keep training and helped me recognize that I could not go it alone. I needed guidance and sought out Kushner Roshi as my teacher. 

In one of our first meetings, he asked me why I wanted to train. I shared a bit about this experience and stated that I want to get bigger. What I meant is that I wanted to build my capacity to hold more. In my next post, I’ll explore how further hara development has supported this intention.