Mind is not a mirror

Over the last week I have been the recipient, as might be guessed from my previous post, of a barrage of conspiracy theories from a friend who decided it was ok to send me endless YouTube videos, blogs, talks and websites promoting them. I found that this tended to disturb my thoughts. I asked myself, do I pay attention to this? Try to debunk it, or look deeper into the source material, where available? Do I try to find out what this person’s problem really is, or just ignore and block? It got inside my head, so to speak, so like anything else, it can become fuel for practice.

In my opinion, those with any sort of personal practice such as A\A\, zazen, and so on, should be very careful about what I think of as 'curating the mind', that is, examining the contents, checking new contents as it comes in, deciding what to keep and what to discard. However, this can be time consuming and knowledge being what it is, essentially endless. I don't have time to check 2-hour long videos to decide whether they are worth knowing about, my life is busy and even without these things there is a whole bunch of information I need to process without adding more. But it gets under the skin nonetheless, more so than the topics themselves. The result is confusion, a stirring of the mind, things stick to it like particles of dust, and a common  understanding in Zen is that the practice is to 'polish the mind like a mirror', so it’s all material for practice surely?

This idea is put clearly in a poem by the monk Jinzu Jouza, when asked by the 5th patriarch to compose an enlightenment poem. The translation I have is as follows.

Our body is the bodhi tree,

and our mind a mirror bright,

Carefully we wipe them hour by hour,

And let no dust alight.

Ok, sounds good, but the 5^th patriarch didn’t feel it was the best that could be done. He said that if a person practiced like this they would make progress, but it was the poem of a person approaching the gate, but not yet though it.

For comparison, the poem composed by the future 6^th patriarch, clarifies this further.

There is no bodhi tree

Nor stand of a mirror bright,

Since all is void,

Where can the dust alight?

I first read this a few months ago, and finding myself in a position where ‘dust is settling in the mind’, I do what one is supposed to do, sit in zazen, and observe. I came to realise that what the 6^th patriarch is talking about as the mind, isn’t the mind as we usually think of it, since dust can’t alight on the mind. So, the thing that is clogged up with thoughts, ideas, troubles, is by definition something other than the mind. Maybe it is better to distinguish between thoughts and mind.

I don’t want to speculate on what is meant by mind, because all I can see and define is what it is not. In fact, it is the not, nothing, void. Not a nihilistic void of meaninglessness, but a full void, like a womb in that it carries everything, everything is born of it, yet itself cannot be thought of, much less disturbed by thoughts. In practice, if my zazen consists of an exercise of trying to curate the mind and throw out unwanted thoughts, I am not approaching this void at all, but merely rearranging the furniture in my mind.

Paradoxically, I want to be careful not to separate thoughts and mind, since observation tells me that they are not separate from mind, not something you can cut off and discard, but rather an aspect of mind; its flowers if you like, that while not the main point are still integral to the whole. This is the meaning of the ‘void flowers’ vision that I had many years ago now (did I mention this before?). Now I might say, thoughts are the flowering of the mind, but they are not its root and stem, only the part that arises in consciousness.

I don’t want to overthink all of this trying to come up with the perfect analogy, the most important thing is not the theory, but the practice, what do we do about it. In practice this means zazen, but it also means the awareness we cultivate in zazen, and carry on into other activities. For me this is my aikido, the tai chi form, but also daily life, making coffee, going for a walk and the rest. Thoughts arise, some quite disturbing, both from within and without. They are all potentially sticky, we can get caught up in them if we are not self-aware. But we don’t want to try and cut them off or some other act of violence, but simply notice what is happening. Notice during zazen when the mind wanders or gets sleepy. Notice in aikido when I have lost my centre. Notice when a friend draws me into fruitless discussion, or when something irritates the mind.

I’ve found that the noticing itself has a disarming effect. In Aikido, noticing you have lost your centre tends to re-establish it. In the same way noticing you are being led away by sticky thoughts tends to dissipate them and natural mind arises. By practicing like this, just noticing, and letting the correction occur naturally, is the only way I have found to get back consistently to that basic, unadorned awareness which is the basis from which we arise, not by polishing the mirror of the mind, but by noticing that the mirror on which dust alights isn't the mind that we seek to cultivate in the first place.

Dealing with conspiracy theories and misinformation

 I think it's always been the case that the occult, spiritual and other fringe elements of society have harboured some unorthodox ideas. As I was getting into the occult in the 1990's I came across a few of these, I read a few of David Ickes books and somebody gave me a tape recording of his Robots Rebellion talks which I listened to a few times and was reminded of a kid I knew in primary school who would tell fantastic stories which we would accept not because we thought they were true, but because it made things more exciting to act as if they were real. Later I discovered that some of his core ideas were lifted from other, more obscure sources (the stuff about reptilian 4th dimensioners), and he was tapping into a whole underground movement heavily influenced by American science fiction writers, one which I was just dipping into, and at that point had no way to access directly.

Being an enquiring type even then, I delved in to some of it, and arrived at a couple of conclusions. Firstly, so what? If true there was little to be done. Secondly, so much seemed fabricated from snatches of mythology, sci-fi and fantasy and conspiracies about the royal family, the US presidents, and a ream of other things that it was really a patchwork of interwoven ideas, constantly evolving, changing, and impossible to pin down. Icke even refuted some of his own early claims about the nature of the reptilian shapeshifters at one point, only to go back on himself at a later date, so was evidently uncertain even of his own account.

These days the whole movement has gone much more mainstream, thanks to the internet communication spreads much more rapidly and further than second hand cassette tapes and a few hard to find books. Many of my friends have been drawn into this world. As a scientist working in the field of climate change I have to deal with misinformation on a regular basis. I don't like to take my work home, but on the other hand do I ignore it when my friends repeat this stuff as if it were gospel truth? In addition, I have to ask, do they seriously believe this stuff, or are they like I was with my tale spinning friend, believing him because I want it to be true, it makes for a better narrative than the banal but more complex reality. 

I wonder at times whether the phenomena is similar to religious belief, in that it is so integral to a persons world view that they literally cannot see except through the lens of their article of faith. This may be why conspiracy theorists, just as religious fanatics, get angry and go on the attack when their articles of faith are questioned. As far as they are concerned, you are attacking them, their whole world, and they have no recourse but to fight back in self defense.

It's a tough thing to do, talking with such people, you can lose friends in the process, and in my case I am usually dismissed as 'haughty', and 'elitist' when I insist on being at least factually correct resisting the unwarranted leaps of logic and other devices. So, I have come up with a few rules of thumb for dealing with this sort of thing.

1) Conspiracy theories and misinformation are a Hydra headed monster. If you cut off one, another will immediately take it's place. It becomes a war of attrition.

2) Never fight a battle you are not properly armed for. Stick to what you know, and don't address things you don't have a fairly strong background in. If you have to quickly google things to make an argument you are stooping down to the level of the conspiracy theorists, and they will beat you with experience. In general, check your sources, who is saying what and on what grounds?

3) Choose your fights. Is it worth your time and energy discussing things? You can waste a lot of time and energy chasing shadows when you could be doing something useful, like sitting in zazen..... 

4) Emotion and feelings trump intellectual rigour, you can't win an argument even when soundly refuting it because facts slide off like Teflon if they don't fit the narrative. Your opponent will most likely become more intrenched in their conviction, so be prepared to lose friends if you engage.

5) If in doubt, remain silent. Every engagement takes an energetic toll on you, and empowers both the person you are arguing with and the fabrications they are peddling. Most of the time it's not worth giving them the oxygen of attention.

These are only my cursory thoughts. I may develop and amend them as time goes on. I will not be attempting to refute this or that idea (see point 1), and I have my own work to do in the world which doesn't involve trying to fight everybody, not am I in a position to do so (point 3). On the other hand, the whole thing is so prevalent in society and online that I would be remiss if I ignored the phenomena entirely, since I do feel that the whole thing plays in to a culture of falsity and illusion which is anathema to the practice of any of the 'spiritual' arts which require the utmost honesty and integrity. 

As a final point, it might be worth considering what the person telling you these things is actually saying. What does their involvement in this stuff signify? What are they not getting that they seek through involvement in what is a highly exclusive sub-culture. This I think is the best weapon, not the sword that cuts through argument, but the cup of compassion and reflection. Speak less, listen deeply to the silent voice below the threshold of verbal communication, and connect, not with the surface layer of confusion, but the deeper need of the human on the other side of the divide. 

Reality is based on Truth

 As I have previously said, my practice these days is more and more based on what is, rather than what I would like to be so.  For me this really came to the fore when I was a Practicus 3^○=8^□, and issues of personal integrity came up. Without going into details, I was offered the chance to either preserve appearances, by lying and obfuscating, or preserve my real integrity by being honest and shattering the self-image that I had cultivated up to that point.

Ever since then, integrity has been central to my worldview, if I am not being completely honest, then I am not in line with the universal way. Even if other people don't know it, I know it. 

Gudo Nishijima Roshi put this point across very well, to paraphrase:

“The universe is based on truth, and if we want to be aligned with the universe, we ourselves have to base our practice on truth”.

To me this means, that the universe is what it is, so to speak, and no amount of elaboration, fantasy or wishful thinking will change that. My practice therefore became one not of ‘becoming’ something, not an act of self-creation, but of alignment with what is. This is the reason I reject most magical practice, spells and such, as organised wishing, and reject visions and illuminations as self-reflected imagery. It is also why I regard those practitioners who indulge in self-delusion, as not really on the path.

Reality is uncompromising, often brutal, and frequently not as we’d wish it to be. It is also complex and confusing. People often want simple answers, somebody to blame, and a sort of structure that they can direct their concerns to. They want to ‘speak to the management’, and so they invoke God, or invent conspiracy theories that seem to explain things in ways that they can readily grasp. However, these things often don’t really help. They seem to do so, they are a sort of salve for the hurting self, but when analysed, I found that they really don’t stack up and are really a form of escapism.

I’m as uncertain about life as the next person. I work in a climate science related field, the future looks scary, and there are no easy answers that I can see. I would love for there to be simple answers: who to blame, exactly what steps to take, but I have had to learn to live with uncertainty in my work life as well as my practice, and accept that sometimes it’s ok not to know.

Not knowing is part of life. For me, not knowing is often the only honest position to take. Adhering to stories and narratives that simplify, or justify my failings and fears, or such forms of self-delusion both don’t help in any practical sense, and don’t help in terms of practice, whish is ultimately one of alignment with the truth of the universe as it is, right here, at this moment.

Religious, but not spiritual

 Something that is often heard among people in esoteric, new age, and other circles of that type, is the phrase: “I’m not religious, but I am spiritual”. The phrase has never sat right with me. it always seems to suggest a sort of anti-authoritarian stance coupled with the seeking of novel experience through spirituality, or a way of letting people know you are unshackled from tradition, while still being ‘deep’.

While these things in themselves are alright, I’ve gradually come to quite a contrary point of view. In my case, it’s probably true to say that “I’m not spiritual, but I am religious”.

I used to be the sort of person who sought novel spiritual experiences. In my younger days I took all manner of drugs, had a liking for psychedelics, and was convinced that a big enough dose of the right drug would lead to breakthrough experiences, whatever they are. In magickal practice I also experimented with all kinds of magick, evocations, astral travel, inner visionary experiences, as well as yoga and meditation. The ultimate experiences of course as an A.’.A.’. person was the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel.

So often we are seeking for some experience, some validating event to justify our efforts, uphold our idea of how we would like the world to be, for validation and satisfaction. This is really a sort of spiritually expressed materialism. When we behave like this, we are really spiritual tourists. Some go to far off places and experience different cultures (I’ve done that too, and highly recommend it), some use this experience of being ‘travellers’ to form a persona. Back in the 90’s it was quite the thing to be able to call yourself a traveller. It has a savour of mystery, adventure, a robust and worldly person worthy of respect. Spiritual tourists, those seeking peak experiences, or just those seeking badges and grades, are no different at root.

Its true to say that I no longer feel that way. Having travelled quite a lot, I yearn to settle in one place. I realised that I don’t like travelling, what I like is to stay in one place for a few years, get to know people, learn the language, hang around after the novelty wears off. In terms of practice, I found that what makes the difference isn’t the peak experiences, the visions and revelations, but the long-term practice itself. Anyone can have a profound experience by taking a large does of DMT or LSD, which is a good way of ‘loosening the girders of the soul, of shaking us out of habitual thought patterns, but what tends to happen is that people, when they come down, resume life much as if nothing had happened, having no discipline or practice to help fortify and ground the experience. 

For me the same is true of magical practices. Astral travel got to be like watching a good film or reading a great novel. When the credits roll, I would go back to my life as if nothing had happened. Likewise, the days when I felt illuminated by something holy, graced by God, in touch with my HGA, or whatever peak experience, left me otherwise unaffected. It didn’t do me any good, so what was the point?

What did make a difference, however, was my long term practice, constant, over many years (over 25 years now that I think about it). For me that has been meditation and related practices. I started meditating in my teens, took up Tai chi at about 20, Aikido at about 30. Daily meditation has gone on all through that time, even through periods when I was a ‘spiritual tourist’ looking for peak experiences and transcendental events. I first encountered Zen at about 16, but for many years it was too simple, too austere, it offered nothing but daily life lived with attention, and within a traditional religious framework, it wasn't novel enough for my thrill seeking attitude. What I appreciate now though is the way that practice is digested into life. The best digestion is silent, just as the best sleep is dreamless. So it is with practice, the best practice is routine, silent, not special. 

But over the last few years and after concluding that most peak experiences were a waste of time, I really started to appreciate Zen for what it is, as an uncompromising attitude of turning towards reality and meeting it as is, without embellishment or elaboration. These days I am much more content to call myself religious, defining it as the constant devotion to a way of life that respects tradition and proceeds in an attentive and unassuming way, not seeking anything other than what is, nor running away seeking novel experiences, avoiding the lure of spiritual escapism. 

I don't have any supernatural beliefs, my religion is not 'faith based', nor do I feel that I am a spiritual person. I have no aspirations to an afterlife, or magical power, and it strikes me that 'enlightenment' is just simply seeing things as they are, and certainly not some special state.

Of course, it took me a long time to arrive here, and don’t expect everybody to agree with my approach, particularly the average seeker. But for me, this is more wholesome, more honest, and open to life as it is, rather than as I would like it to be. To me this is the only real way of encountering reality. And in terms of spiritual progress? There is no ‘progress’, as such, but it does take a certain kind of person to continue to live and practice in that constant way. It takes grit, determination, stoicism really, to get up and practice, to sit on the cushion, day in day out for years without expecting anything, simply allowing delusion to fall away of its own accord. 

For me the reward is simply to be the sort of person who lives like that.

Lineages: not a new problem

When the sixth patriarch of Mahayana Buddhism, Eno of Huineng died, he was asked by his followers about the robe and bowl which the fifth patriarch had given him when he had named him as dharma successor. This bowl had been passed from patriarch to patriarch, all the way from Bodhidharma. So, the sixth patriarch was asked by his students, who gets the robe and bowl? In other words, who is the rightful dharma successor?

Eno was no fool, and refused to pass these items on to anybody. He knew that even then animosity had arisen between his own sangha and the prominent northern school of Zen Buddhism, led by his dharma brother and fellow student of the fifth patriarch. He asserted that all he knew he had stated in the Platform Sutra; "These were the true teaching and even if Buddha himself were here he would say the same things. Please practice and learn this teachings carefully. The dharma is transmissible, but the robe and bowl are sources of conflict".  

Even in Eno’s time there were five schools of Chan (Zen) Buddhism: Rinzai, Soto, Unmon, Hogen,  and Igyo. These he named the five petals of a flower. Eno refused to pass on the robe and bowl to any one, as this would have created a main lineage, to which all others would be secondary. Thus today we have the five schools. Even within those schools there is variation and difference between teachers.

The A\A\ is no different, being a lineal system dependent on transmission from generation to generation. Unlike the Zen traditions however, anybody who becomes even a Neophyte in A\A\ (and some say even a Probationer) can become a link in the chain, and one way or another, by hook or by crook, the Order continues. Some don't like this, and like Eno's students they ask, who has the robe and bowl? Wanting to know who is the 'real deal', they miss the point and fall into politics and controversy.

Does this mean that lineage has no value then? I don't think it has no value at all, but I do think it is besides the point. The A\A\ as an institution is no different than any other linage based religion, subject to the same conflicts of interest. However, like Buddhism, the dharma, the path itself, is open to anybody with the will to go through it, since the instructions are available to all. Having a lineage only demonstrates that you have been overseen by a person who presumably knows what they are doing. This does not necessarily mean much; Buddhist teachers have gone bad, misused their authority, with and without authentic lineage. During World War 2 there were Roshi (Zen Masters) who advocated the war in Asia, the invasion of China and the rest. The same is true of the Order, some have used it for their own gain, there have been bad eggs in the basket, while there are also good teachers, so in both instances it really depends on the individual. Telling the difference isn't always easy either.

This doesn't matter so much in the end, the key component is the aspirant. The path is open to all, the important thing is to begin, to work without lust of result, in earnest and self motivated dedication. Finding a teacher takes discernment, finding a good teacher might take more than a little luck, and lineage is no sure guide.

We would do well I think, to take a leaf out of the sixth patriarchs book, and recognise that Crowley left the teachings of the A\A\ available to all, and wrangling over who’s got the ‘robe and bowl’ leads only to conflict.

Practice is a pure well

 We are accustomed these days to bringing our opinions, politics, and points of view into everything we do. Most of us, at least some of the time conflate our spiritual practice with our morality, our values, and our politics, to the point where people say things like; “you can’t be spiritual and a conservative”, or “all liberals are degenerates”. This is hardly surprising considering the moral facet of most religions, but such oversimplifications give a false sense of comfort and security, after all, we are in the right, aren’t we? It’s obviously those guys over there who have it wrong, and are therefore unspiritual, blinded by their egos and ingrained attitudes, whereas we are the ones who have it figured out, we are on the path, everyone else is lost and the don’t even know it, right?

In my experience these attitudes and tendencies to conflate political and social attitudes and other aspects of the mind with spirituality are the fastest way to ruin a perfectly good practice. Many a temple has been torn apart by infighting between opposing viewpoints, and fraternal bonds sundered over who voted for who or ones views on the hot topic of the day. 

Of course, one must always be honest and sincere in ones beliefs and opinions, and without looking reality directly in the face no progress can be made. Facts are facts, if you drink sulfuric acid because you don't believe what those nasty scientists tell you about it, and what you put in your body is your choice anyway, you will die just the same. We must deal with reality as it is, not as we would like it to be, as our senses report, not how we feel. Understanding what we think and why, and how we feel about things and why, is all part of the practice we are engaged in as initiates, so identifying with our opinions so that we can no longer see where we end and our opinions begin is, for an initiate, a form of blindness, and one that all of us fall for to some extent. 

Despite this, all of us, without exception are seeking in our practice, to make contact with and partake of that pure well of experience, the ‘ground of being’ that springs up in each of us by virtue of the fact that we exist at all. Call it 'union with God', 'the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel', 'Moksha', or whatever. That's where the path tends to, all on the path are heading in that way, battling through their own jungle to do so.

While the A.’.A.’. is not a lodge system, nobody lives in a vacuum, and initiates should be careful about this wellspring of pure being at the heart of our aspiration. Take care not to muddy it or cover it over with the dirt and refuse of our lives, our opinions, and all the other things we mistake for ourselves. It’s an extremely difficult thing to do in practice, but I believe that ones politics and opinions should be left at the temple door and that sacred space be entered with a real sense of fraternity, more than that, reverence, and a recognition and identity with our brothers and sisters, we are all , in our own way, trying to do the same thing. 

This does not mean that ones opinions and ideas need never be challenged; practice is not a safe space but a real challenging of ourselves to be our authentic self, the 'face before you were born', not the veil of personality that we take for our self. In terms of teacher/student relations, a teacher may ask a student why they hold an opinion, asking them to question themselves, but he should not place a moral judgement on it, and a wise teacher will leave well enough alone once something has been pointed out as a point to practice on, and not harp on about it. Likewise a student who expects the teacher to always meet their ideal of some enlightened being will be disappointed if they find out that the teachers opinions differ from their own, or that their teacher is another human with his own failures and quirks, and not the mahatma they expect, they may flee in disgust and never again trust another human being to try to help.

The A.’.A.’., not the order founded by Crowley, but the supernal Order, exists beyond the limitations of personality, way above Tiphareth even, and cannot be defined in the limited terms of the ego. Learning to get beyond these limitations, see the pure well buried beneath aeons of dust and grime, a lifetime of opinions and ideals, fears, hopes, and other detritus of the personality, is the whole of practice. If we want to drink of this pure well of experience that is our birth right, we must begin by clearing out the detritus in ourselves. This is why regular meditation is so important. More than that, we must refuse to allow detritus to be thrown casually into the well by others, the temple, sangha, place of practice and group that we practice with should as much as possible be free of these things. This isn’t to say we shouldn’t have opinions, but that we need to be able to leave them at the temple door. 

If I write to a brother and sign off as ‘Frater’, this means we are operating in sacred space, and I don’t expect to be asked about my opinion on this or that current event. If I don a robe in a group setting, this is an opportunity to touch the source of reality, not the place for idle gossip and chatter, or the judging of others who are there, we hope, for the same reasons we are. Likewise, if a brother or sister expresses an opinion I disagree with, then in temple or sacred context is not the time or place to bring it up, and while we must be swift to correct a misconception or falsity we need to be cautious about how, when, and even if we do so. Sometimes it is wiser to let things be, if it causes no harm, and if a person proves intractable in error, for example where an idea is foundational to a whole worldview, then while the individual concerned will need to break that barrier down themselves (and this is the path of the tower), often outside interference in such fondly held beliefs is met with hostility, silence is preferable in most instances.  

Humans are social animals, and even the brethren, other people on the path, want to talk to each other about current events and will always have differing views on things. There is not necessarily anything wrong with this, but we need to be aware that here we are operating no higher than Hod/Netzach, the Outer College so to speak, and subject to false egos in the place of the real Tiphareth. At this level all is confusion, and interactions here are prone to misunderstandings. There needs to be a clear demarcation between this sort of thing and dealing with matters pertaining to the path. if we cannot rise past these things, up, along the middle pillar, and beyond such trivialities in our interactions with others then we are not yet touching the source, that well spring is as yet covered. If we get continually involved in the mental agitations of our brothers and sisters of lower grades then this is an opportunity to practice rising on the planes and bypassing these spheres of the personality, for both our sakes.

It is said that when sat in meditation we all become Buddha. That is to say, when in meditation we all identify with that wellspring of our lives. Thought drops away and with it opinion and ego, thus we are really all the same person in this state of pure being. in light of this, it is important I feel to move beyond the limitations of the personality and try to see each person as a reflection of ourselves, not as an ego with an opinion that we want to argue with, but as a pure being drawing life from, and expressing in their way that infinite and unknown source. 

This, I think, is the real meaning of fraternity. 

 

Sitting through impatience

 Over the last month or so my periods of sitting in zazen have lengthened from 10-15 to 30+, with daily morning sittings being broken into two 25-30 sessions, so about 50 minutes before anything else in the day. This started out from participating in online zazenkai, one of the few benefits of the pandemic. Living in a very rural location there is no opportunity to get to a zendo, but having people on the other end of a zoom meeting is surprisingly helpful.

When I started this extended sittings I was faced with my own impatience. Previously, sittings tended to be fairly short and even as a zelator I rarely sat more than 20 minutes except for the hour required to pass my exam for that grade which I did by effort of will. Now, having embraced the zen Buddhist method of shikan taza, things have changed, one of which is my sense of time while sitting.

I had unconsciously trained myself to essentially sit still until a bell rang, allowing me to stop. I would mark this time by counting the breath and my frustration would mount until I heard the bell as a signal that it was over. One morning I was sat for the first of a two part sitting, supposed to be 2 sets of 25 minutes with a 5 minute break in the middle. I was sitting, expecting the bell, knowing full well that it had to be any moment. I sit facing a wall so there is no way to check without craning my neck so I sat patiently, slowly realising that it wasn't going to come. What I also noticed was that now that I was certain that no bell was going to ring I had stopped waiting for it and a lot of the tension I had built up had dissipated, I was fine just sitting there, not waiting for anything, not expecting anything.

The lesson here I think, is that setting up zazen as a chore that has to be got through just puts up resistance. On the other hand if I put aside thoughts of how much longer I need to sit there, assuming my posture is good and the body not in pain then I am happy to sit there as long as necessary. The real resistance is in my mind. I think this attitude can be taken into other areas of life, for example work hours; instead of worrying about time to go to lunch, just carry on until it is time without fretting about it. 

Often in morning zazen, my mind will naturally turn towards the days tasks. Planning as usual, running mental lists. This is ok I think, as long as I don't get absorbed into it, but is really another symptom of impatience, a sense of having something pending. A better approach would be to view zazen as time to myself, not as a chore but as a rest, a rest even from my hobbies and other distractions, checking emails, reading, watching YouTube or whatever I might do as a form of escapism.   

I have also dropped any sort of breath counting in zazen. Once I realised that I was using it to mark the time I could see that it was being put into the service of my impatience (how many cycles of 10 do I need to do before I am finished?). What I notice is that after a while the breath gets naturally deep and slow, only being interrupted when I notice this and the mind turns towards it and automatically tries to control it, a symptom of long years doing pranayama. 

Zazen then has become an exercise in just being, not trying to control anything, much less an attempt to muscle through enforced stasis on the cushion. I'm starting to quite look forward to the morning sittings as a period of quiescence before the business of the day. While I am aware that zazen is essentially a goalless practice something obscurely satisfying has arisen out of just taking the time to slowly watch the dawn come in each morning in silence and real attentiveness to the here and now.