The book is a study of Zen, the Mahayana Buddhist sect that took root in China and then Japan, where it shaped the samurai. Nukariya writes as a professor and a Zen Buddhist, and his aim is to show Western readers a living tradition rather than a museum piece. He opens by separating the older Southern Buddhism, often called pessimistic, from the later Northern Mahayana that Zen belongs to, which he treats as broadly optimistic.
Zen, he explains, is the Sino-Japanese form of the word for meditation, and its method of sitting in meditation reaches back even before Buddhism. What sets it apart among world religions is its refusal of outward props. It denies scriptural authority, declines to treat its founder as a superhuman idol, and conveys insight through abrupt acts: a shout, a tap of a staff, a slap. Truth, on this view, passes from mind to mind and cannot be locked into words.
Two long historical chapters trace Zen from Bodhidharma and the patriarchs in China to its establishment in Japan by Ei-sai and Do-gen. Here Nukariya develops his central social claim: the Zen monk and the samurai resemble each other closely. Both endure strict discipline and honest poverty, both carry a blunt manliness, and both face death with steadiness. Anecdotes of monks who gave away their last food, or who composed calm verses while a sword was raised over them, carry the point.
The middle chapters turn philosophical. Nukariya argues that the universe is the true scripture, that Buddha is best understood as universal life and spirit rather than a named being, and that human nature is neither simply good nor bad but Buddha-natured at its root. Enlightenment is an insight into the real self, an emancipation of the mind from the illusion of a separate, possessive ego. He frames this without nihilism, treating the awakened mind as a clear mirror that sees one life running through all beings.
The closing chapters face ordinary existence and the work of training. Life consists in conflict, Nukariya admits, yet a law of balance keeps it from collapsing into mere misery, and difficulty is what moulds character. The practical answer is meditation, or zazen: sitting in stillness, steadying the breath, letting go of idle thoughts, and forgetting the self. The reward he names is a quiet beatitude in which a person does their best, leaves the rest to providence, and grows thankful even for hardship and death.