A few mornings ago, I was sitting on my cushion, something I do every day of the week, except Sunday. I was thinking about my upcoming podcast. First, I need to share a word about meditation and me. Everywhere you look, there are experts on the subject, with their special version of the consummate instructions, your ticket to an awareness, second only to God. Personally, I have never gotten wrapped up in the manual of correctness. You try and sit still, cross legged if possible, keeping your back as straight as you can, breathing through your nose and if you can’t, your mouth beats suffocation. You let the light of the outside world slip in, under your half open lids and unfocused eyes, a way to keep you awake, avoiding the drift off to the numbness of stillness.

So, what the hell was I thinking about and what does my Zen meditation have to do with it? Let me answer in reverse order. From the time I started sitting, surrounded by all sorts of ritualistic approaches, I just left my mind alone, letting it do whatever it felt like doing. I have been at this for around thirty years, so I got some earned mileage. First, I don’t sit frozen, trying not to move my body, nor do I let my mind trampoline from one worry to the next and back again. Thoughts come and go, without grabbing for the handlebars, like a meticulously composed symphony, gliding from one movement to the next, a seamless dance of the mind.

Yes, there are some rituals I do observe in my Zen practice, because the Buddha would track me down and give me serious stink eye. I think in return for his not being very demanding, it’s the least I can do. At the end of my 25 minute sit, I mumble several Japanese prayers and I can’t even tell you what they mean. I know for a fact that’s not important. Before getting up, I say the Four Vows in English, each one its own special tribute to a bottomless pit of a Catch 22 logic.  The one that got me several mornings ago, goes like this, “ Sentient beings are numberless, I vow to save them”.  Well, how the hell are you going to do that? It’s like counting to infinity.

Now, why did this come up and what does it have to do with my podcast? Well, I am so glad you asked. Every now and then, whether it has to do with this blog or my relatively new podcast, I ask myself why I am doing any of it? I don’t seem to care about the metrics in all this, calculating how many people I reach through my writing or my talking. To be honest, it’s not because I don’t care. I do like the idea of trying to touch others. It goes back to that vow and that is all.

Once upon a time, I was much younger; goals mattered back then. The idea of actually being able to grab the brass ring was a matter of motivation and focused direction. I think that mindset starts when you are just a kid. Thinking about what you wanted to be when you grew up, fit comfortably into my own personal wardrobe of possibility. Being a reasonably bright, kid from Queens, medicine was my meal ticket, pushing aside any uncertainties. 

For many of us, perfect plans begin to unravel sometime in college, assuming you were fortunate enough to be there in the first place. My official floundering began in my sophomore year at Queens College. I had a pretty decent personality IQ, but my perfect dream was bluntly interrupted by reality. I was bright enough to get away with getting by, but I ran out of rope. I got terribly lost around then, just a kid, not even twenty. The neat little package of the landscape in a child’s eye went blind, losing the ability to rote recite the letters on the chart of my destiny.

I lost my perfect, make-believe map and spent the next twenty years looking outside myself for validation. I guess many of us stay locked into this idea of fulfilling the expectations of others. Without knowing it, you become a series of statistics on the actuarial chart of a life lived. Predictability unconsciously becomes the mantra for many of us.

It is hard to say when I began thinking life is a journey. I guess you have to have the shit kicked out of you often enough to start thinking you are not nearly as smart as you always thought you were. The questions relentlessly persist, but the answers seem to get farther and farther away. Seriously, I don’t mean to always be such a pain in the ass about getting older, but experience is life’s professor. It has this strange effect on you and it’s not like you can put your finger on the precise moment when the accumulation of years becomes a calculable force, infecting your every waking moment.

So, here I am, always thinking about what I am doing and why. While I may be  sincere, i am still some hapless schmuck from Queens, NY, sharing a bunch of disparate stuff with those of you kind enough to spare a few minutes, reading my stories or listening to my podcasts. 

I have this need to do what I am doing, especially now and I swear it feels incredibly normal to me.  All of Zen is intended to drive you nuts, especially if you are one of those people looking for answers. I know I am not the guy to take you to the other shore, where all your questions will be answered. Maybe, if all of us started pretending our actions were these small lights, showing the way for others, that vow wouldn’t seem so impossible.

I am just a guy with questions, striving and never arriving.

Speaking of podcasts, give me a listen: https://www.buzzsprout.com/1292459