Crossing Nebraska

I think it’s safe to say that, for any given individual, Zen practice is an ever-changing dynamic. During my tenure helping out with the instruction of beginners, it was quite common to find people hoping to gain something, whether it be refuge, meaning, knowledge, enlightenment, peace of mind, community, an escape from the chaos of modernity, or a means to cope with pain, grief, anxiety, depression and substance abuse. And how could I possibly claim exemption from a good number of those! As practice progresses, however, (toward what?) one begins to realize change. But what exactly has changed? If anything, what is gained via Zen practice amounts to addition by subtraction – a dropping off of ideas, concepts, beliefs, expectations, unnecessary stuff and unnecessary activity. But what happens when we begin to drop off huge chunks of what we once thought Zen practice was all about? In another century I might have been one of those monks who headed off into the mountains to live

It’s a postcard cliché: The beach is gorgeous! Wish you were here! … The weather is magnificent! Wish you were here! … The skiing is fabulous! Wish you were here! Sure enough, everything is gorgeous, magnificent, and fabulous when we’re off in some exotic locale with only one thing on our agenda – to enjoy each and every moment of our lives. A really good vacation takes our mind far away from the concerns and drudgery of our workaday world. It gives us time and permission to wander and wonder, to watch and relax. But even as our mind strays far away from our ordinary life, our body is right there with it! It’s easy to live “in the moment” when the moment is so very interesting, carefree, and pleasurable. It’s easy to “be present” when the present is just so gosh darned enjoyable! The author at Grand Chartreuse Monastery That’s quite the opposite of how we often live – with our body right here and our mind far away. Like when we’re ostensibly at work, but our mind has