How to Just Take a Seat

My first experience with formal Buddhism came some years ago at Zen Mountain Monastery, an impressive stone structure tucked neatly into the side of Mt. Tremper, in the Catskills, in eastern New York State. I arrived at the "Introduction to Zen" weekend with a fair degree of trepidation and almost no understanding of what to expect.

But I knew that there was something I needed and wanted, something missing from my life, and for reasons perhaps more instinctive than logical, I guessed that Buddhist teachings might be my best way to locate what I sensed was lacking.

So on the third day of the weekend retreat, when I finally had my chance for dokusan (one-on-one teaching) with John Daido Loori Roshi, the abbot and founder, I was brimming with questions. So much had been packed into 48 hours--the basics of meditation, the correct way to bow, Buddhist philosophy, work practice, Zen and art.

I could only ask one question, and I felt some urgency to ask the right one. After an awkward series of bows, I sat on the cushion across from Daido-shi, a tall, big-shouldered man with a meticulously shaved head and ornate chestnut orange robes. He looked toward me, smiled a very warm, very sleepy, amused smile. He had seen his share of nervous beginners that weekend.

Sitting meditation is hard. The sheepish admission "I sit every day...almost" is like a mantra to my Buddhist friends.

"Do you have a question?" he asked.

I spit out what I had silently rehearsed: "How do I diligently pursue what Zen has to offer, without grasping?" It seemed like a dumb question before it is even off my lips.

"Just sit." He smiled with his eyes, then nodded.

The response seemed too simple, so I repeated the question, trying somewhat different words but asking essentially the same thing. "How can I be deliberate about seeking Buddhism and yet not be too attached?"

"Just sit," he repeated.

To be honest, I have followed John Daido Loori's advice better during some spans of the past five years than I have during others. Too often, I am like a child who can't sit still--figuratively and literally.

Sitting in meditation is hard. It takes a discipline that seems to come easy to very few people, and one that is so difficult for many that the sheepish admission "I sit every day...almost" is like a mantra to my Buddhist friends.

Worse for me, I have no sangha, no regular sitting group in my small Central Pennsylvania community, so there is no peer pressure, no support, and no one to notice when I slip away from sitting practice.

Everybody has an excuse, however, don't they? I use my excuses too often.

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