When Meditation is the Golden Calf (a Zealot Zazen)

(Version française : Parfois, Zazen est le Veau d’Or

Zazen, zazen, zazen…. until it becomes an obsession, 

Then zazen again, zazen some more, until it makes you nauseous.

Searching for quantity….threading hours of life on the rope of practice,
like beads weighing down on our necks,
bowing our heads under the burden of the ideology of no ideology,
thickening our minds day in day out.

When zazen is an escape… Like a crawling insect trapped in the square of my thumbs and index fingers…It moves from one knuckle to the other, it turns around, tries again, turns once more, comes back and crosses its cage one more time.
Finally fleeing through the open window of the sky : this is putting an end to practicing like a lout foaming at the mouth as he stammers a libidinous ‘zazen’.

People often jog out of an addiction to endorphins.

The running track of a zealot zazen practice engulfs the practitioner for a few thousands free rides.

Zazen for what ?
Meditating like that
Is trying to escape
Oneself, mostly.

If you are rising up at the utterance of such hidden frailty, you probably don’t know the power of a short and solitary sitting session, one of those who make you silently laugh at strenuous group torture assemblies.
What are they running from ?

This micro microcosm surely offers an alibi to life’s deserters…
They have met special secret services agency providing a new identity.
Have they ?

Witness of Life, who’s hunting you down ?
Hiker of Life, why are you lounging in the refuge ?
When neither the night nor the storm 
Can really get you. Zazen is much wider than zazen
So wide it can never be contained in any framework

(however exotic)

(Version françaiseParfois, Zazen est le Veau d’Or ( A Zealot Zazen )

Franck Joseph

©FJ  May 2019Les articles et méditations sont disponibles en version papier ici : RECUEILS

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