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.