No Worries

If we’re worriers, we worry about everything. We come to Zen practice looking for the peace of no worries, and we bring our worrying selves with us. Am I sitting too little? Am I sitting too much? Am I thinking too much? Should I be doing Shikantaza instead of just counting my breath?

I learned early about the practice progression. In the beginning, we count our breaths, from one to ten, and begin again. Eventually, we go on to just observing our breath, no longer counting. Finally, we get to Shikantaza, just sitting. I was horrified when I heard Kyudo Roshi say that in Japan, for seven years, the monks just count their breath. I was in a hurry. I ended up counting for thirty years. It’s been five years now that I’ve been following my breath. Will I ever get to Shikantaza? Don’t know, and -- would you believe it? -- no longer worrying.

When I worried about how to bring my Zen practice into my life, Bernie told, “You just do your zazen. The zazen will take care of the rest.” We worry because we think we’re in charge. That’s a trap. Some of the advice given to beginners helps to avoid that trap. “Choose a time each day for sitting. Just do it. Make the sitting time decision once and you don’t ever have to think about it again.” Mornings are my time. Some people prefer evenings. It doesn’t matter. Make the decision once, and no worrying.

Some people sit for years and still worry each day about when they’re going to it. Every day, it’s a fresh worry. That’s part of the beauty of the monastic life (or of sesshin): you don’t have to decide when you are going to sit. The bell rings, you sit. In setting your sitting time, you create your own monastery. Can’t or won’t do it? Maybe, let someone else do it for you. Maybe this is one of those times in which we all need a teacher, a guide on the path. Let the teacher decide. That’s it. There are then no more decisions about when to sit. No decisions, no worries.

Don’t be ridiculous, Ken. You can still worry, of course. What’s happens if I miss a day? Now, there’s a worry. And another trap, another demon. What happens if you miss a day? You sit the next day. It’s a simple answer but not an easy one. Ask a recovering alcoholic. So often one drink leads to another. They have a saying: First, the man takes a drink; then the drink takes a drink; then the drink takes the man. Ask a dieter. You eat one potato chip; you might as well eat the whole bag. Your diet day is ruined anyway.

You miss sitting one day, get back on your cushion the next. No worries. Lighten up. Jishu nipped my early practice pride. I’d only missed six days in three years and could tell you why each time. I was proud of my consistency. “Lighten up, Ken,” Jishu said. No worries. Easier said than done, but worth it. Keep it simple. Those monastics know a thing or two about practice, and we householders can learn a few from them.