was not the real thing. So I got defensive. But in the end, what is to defend?
A spontaneous koan popped up for me: What is real zen?
When I was a girl of 19, I spent one anguished night wrestling with the demon of my childhood religion. I won. And as a reward, I received my first koan. What is the nature of the world? Magic, came the answer.
A few years later, I yearned to understand more deeply. If magic is the true nature of the world, then what is the nature of magic? Zen, came the answer.
My bike, which is seeing action again after 3 years in hiding, and a lovely rock wall beside the house
Now, after 17 years of practice on my own, and in training temples, and in neighborhood zen centers, I wonder, is zen just all this sitting still? Can it only be found in a monastery? Can it only be delivered by serious men? Is it governed by any rule of man? Can it be governed even by Buddha?
What about this existence that is beyond any name we can give it? Its singing is so loud, it keeps me up at night.
Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase 'each other' doesn't make any sense.