Where'd It All Go?

Our Soto way puts an emphasis on shikan taza, or "just sitting." Actually we do not have any particular name for our practice; when we practice zazen we just practice it, and whether we find joy in our practice or not, we just do it. Even though we are sleepy, and we are tired of practicing zazen, of repeating the same thing day after day; even so, we continue our practice. Whether or not someone encourages our practice, we just do it. - Shunryu Suzuki in "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind."

Day 315. OMG! Fifty, FIFTY, Five-Oh more blogs to write! Not that I am counting how many are left rather than how many have been written . . . Not that I am attached to this year being over. . . Not that I am concerned that a book contract hasn't arrived . . . Not that it ever even occurs to me to wonder how far in advance Kate Hudson signs her movie contracts . . .

Last night I was sitting on my cushion and it felt like I had never sat zazen before in my life. Like I knew nothing. Like I was a total novice, and I don't mean the good kind of "beginner" that Suzuki Roshi refers to. I felt like a caricature of a Westerner. A Westerner trying to meditate for the first time. The average Jane who's read a couple of articles on meditation and decides one night, "Okay, I can do that. No problem. What's the big deal? Sit down and breathe. I bet I'm enlightened by the weekend." An impatient, desirous, attached, egotistical, goal oriented, looking to attain something, waiting for the reward, Monkey-Minded American.

I was mildly perturbed and a little perplexed. How could this be? What about my ten months of solid practice? What about my erect spine, balanced mudra, and symmetrical half lotus? What about emptying my mind, sinking into my amygdala, focusing on my breath, silencing the Monkeys, falling into the abyss, becoming enveloped in the blue/black beauty of nothingness? Where did it all go?!

The more I searched, the more my mind scurried like shoppers scoring Kohl's Cash. I managed to remain on my cushion, but it's a wonder my frenetic cerebral spinning didn't levitate me off the floor like an Army chopper leaving a M*A*S*H unit. "I've lost it I'm bored I'm a bad sitter It's gone on too long The blog is boring Nobody cares anymore There is nothing to write about It was a dumb idea Stop thinking Just breathe There is nothing to attain Pick something and focus on it Where's a mantra Don't use a mantra That just makes you think more Nothing is working I wish I could sit like I used to I am getting worse not better Only two months left to reach Nirvana You are not supposed to care about reaching anything This isn't how I thought it would be Time is running out This is so disappointing You'd better get to the dojo and sit with the sangha again I don't care Yes I do . . . . . " The Monkeys went for a frolic in my brain cells like toddlers in the ball pit at Discovery Zone. The timer went off, and still I was thinking, "Where'd it all go?"

I grabbed for Suzuki Roshi's book like a nun clutches her rosary. Opened it to page 78 and read the above quote. Sighed, breathed, and bowed. For real. Gassho to my teacher's teacher for managing to speak to everything that ails me in my practice. He didn't answer my confusion about "Where did it all go?" He just reminded me that the question doesn't really matter.

Gotta go. I have some shikan taza to do.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc