At this point, I think it's appropriate to say a few words about practice.

Everything we do in our lives, whether we realize it or not, is our practice. Whether we're eating, sleeping or working; playing, laughing or crying; dreaming, fucking or shitting; reading, writing or acting - it's all practice. The question is - how much mindfulness do we bring to our practice?

Zazen - zen meditation - is training in mindfulness that we can then take to the rest of our practice. Zazen is part of our practice, but it is not separate from the rest of our practice. But since it provides the training in mindfulness, it is a very important part.

So a few clarifications, if I may. First, to approach zazen correctly, one must enter this training practice with no expectations of results. In this respect, it is unlike any other endeavor in one's life, where we take on a task in anticipation of a result. We boil water with the intention of preparing a meal, we sit and watch tv with the expectation of being entertained, we read a book to learn something. But one does not sit in zazen in order to gain enlightenment or understanding or even mindfulness, nor realization, calmness, wisdom, insight, self control, confidence or security. Sitting with any goal or purpose in mind is not zazen - it is sitting with a goal or purpose in mind.

What is the point of zazen, then? Well, to let you in on a secret. . . there is none! It has no purpose whatsoever. Although it's the training in which our mindfulness is developed, it does not have a "purpose" of developing mindfulness. This is not so strange - the "purpose" of a mountain is not to provide gradient for a stream, although a stream might flow from there; the "purpose" of a pond is not to reflect geese flying over it, although the geese might cast their reflection there.

Any striving toward a goal, even any conception of having a goal, is not the training. Zazen practice is just the letting go of everything, even of the "point" of practice. The Japanese term "shikantaza" means "just sitting," with the emphasis on "just." Not sitting and concentrating, not sitting and chanting, just sitting. No breath practice, no mandalas, no music, no jug of wine, no loaf of bread, no guidance, no deep thoughts, no purpose and no goal. Just sitting. And by letting go everything, the whole universe then opens up to you.

It takes great effort, though, not to make great effort.

There absolutely can be great psychological and other benefits from a purposeful program of meditation - there's no denying it - but shikantaza is not even really meditation and certainly not a "purposeful program of meditation," as the letting go also includes the letting go, not the concentration, of thought.

There is, then, neither "good" zazen practice nor "poor" zazen practice. Zazen is not "strong" or "weak." It's neither "perfect" not "imperfect." It transcends these thinking-mind distinctions, just as it transcends "purposeful" and "purposeless."