Ah Hah . . . .

Zen is like a spring coming out of a mountain. It doesn't flow in order to quench the thirst of a traveler, but if the travelers want to help themselves to it, that's fine. It's up to you what you do with the water; the spring's job is just to flow. - Alan Watts in the Zen Calendar (May 22, 2007)

Day 47. Back to work tomorrow. I have many thoughts and feelings about that. The primary one is gratitude that I have work to go back to. Many people do not.

Last night I sat upon my cushion and it was very, very quiet. Extraordinarily silent. I adore quiet. I revel in it, and thrive. Quiet is extremely conducive to meditation. I had just finished writing about my "Blogging Brain," and, true to form, the Monkeys initially prattled on about potential blog titles and topics. The chatter felt incongruous with the silence. I try to remain unattached to the context in which I find myself meditating, reminding myself that I survived sitting in the havoc of a family hotel during Spring Break. "This should be a cinch," I told myself, "Sit in zazen as if engaged in the fight for your life!"

I watched my ego drive several thoughts across the byways of my mind. Despite my effort to visualize the thoughts as fluffy clouds passing through a clear summer sky, they swirled circularly -- more like the dark gray thunderheads that start to spin wildly before a tornado. The circle went like this: Criticism of my lack of deep meditation over the past several days; chastisement at being critical; reminder to accept all feelings and responses without getting attached to them; sneaking desire for more of the meaningful (or at least mildly interesting) meditative experiences I described in earlier blogs; Voila! Back to criticisms of my current meditation (or lack thereof). The thought circles swirled, gathering momentum.

I briefly Hammed and Sahed, counted breaths, pictured melting in water, however, my loathsome ego would not surrender the helm of my consciousness. Like a dog with a ham bone, it chewed vigorously on the "Why" of my sitting struggles. I continued to sit, pulling my mudra closer to my middle. Then, in a galaxy different from the one in which my Ego is Sun, a brilliant flash of "Ah Hah!" ignited and exploded. SITTING COMES FIRST! THE BLOG IS SECONDARY!

I was flooded with relief and delight. The clarity was blinding. It was as though I was being held in a warm embrace. My ego didn't just surrender the helm -- it jumped ship entirely! I could just sit. No thought, no feeling, no illusion, no intention, no expectation. The misery on my cushion was, apparently, connected to my growing attachment to writing a good - nay, great - blog. It had begun to MATTER what happened during zazen. How humbling: I turn my back for an instant to glance at my dream of writing and - Whoosh! The expectations and attachments tumble in like free throws during March Madness.

We live in an ego-driven culture. If feels virtually impossible to separate self-worth from possessions and accomplishment. Not much press is allocated to stellar cushion sitting, but there are innumerable writing awards. I lost my way for a moment. When I conceptualized this journey, my original intent was to resume a meditation practice. No attainment. Just sit. The blogging is secondary. If travelers to my blog want to help themselves to it, that's fine. It's up to you what you do with the water of my words; my job is just to sit.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc