“The more you understand about our thinking, the more you find it difficult to talk about it.” —Shunryū Suzuki, author “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind”

Mornings after my beloved coffee, I meditate in the field behind my childhood home, sitting in a squashed patch of grass, where the sunlight finds a way over the treetops

The summer sunshine keeps mosquitos away…they’re thirsty in the morning, and I’ve learned to gently blow them away from my face, rather than kill them

From where I sit, it’s impossible to see anything human-made, aside from the clothes wrapped around me…protecting my blood from tiny proboscis

Suzuki, quoted above, also founded the motorcycle company…he’d meditate all morning, then jet-bomb Tokyo highways on his GSXR 1100 superbike, engine whining

That’s a joke, of course…yet Suzuki (the author) teaches me Zen…the practice of zazen (posture, breathing) being of far greater importance than an intellectual grasp

Sitting in my depressed patch of grass, mosquito wings whining, I believe: the deeper our understanding of spirituality, the more shallow we feel talking about it

Einstein said: If we can’t explain something in simple terms, we don’t understand it well enough…it’s certainly been the case for me, in my writings about spirituality

A best lesson comes from George Harrison: Everything can wait, except a search for spiritual meaning (paraphrasing…Harrison says “God” i/o “spiritual meaning”)

Harrison, having been in the Beatles, illustrates something about the heights of rock n’ roll stardom…and who amongst us hasn’t dreamt of that?

I once dreamt of enlightenment, wealth, a voice spanning time…serving audiences, uncovering mysteries, arriving at the root of the most challenging questions

Suzuki writes: “That everything changes is the basic truth for each existence. No one can deny this truth, and all the teaching of Buddhism is condensed within it.”

I used to make jokes to avoid going deeper towards the truth…then I avoided making jokes, at the risk of offending someone…yet jokes and non-jokes can wait

Near my patch in the grass, a spider climbs higher, spinning her silk between two towering blades, eight tiny pincers spanning unfathomable distance

The sun climbs higher, now outside of my range of view…half-way between the earth and sky, a forest emerges…clouds form, and re-form…the day’s dream beginning

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