How did I get here? I didn't take notes.

"I don't necessarily want to give a lecture. I just want to live with you: moving stones, having a nice hot spring bath and eating something good. Zen is right there. When I start to talk, it is already a smoky kerosene lamp. As long as I must start a lecture, I have to explain, 'This is right practice, this is wrong, this is how to practice zazen...' It is like giving you a recipe. It doesn't work. You cannot eat a recipe."

– Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, Not Always So

I like this because it supports my notion that it's difficult to explain – no, impossible to explain – some of the things I believe.

You may already know you have a blind spot in the middle of your vision. If you look at stars at night, and you stare very hard at a particular star, it will seem to vanish. But if you look just above or below it, or to one side, it will reappear. That's sort of how this is. I can see it if I don't stare at it.

And if I try to define it, even to myself, I get this mental picture of 'it' sitting right in front of me, and as I describe it, the adjectives in my mind pop up in front of it like a screen. And soon, instead of seeing it, I'm seeing a wall of adjectives - in black 36 point Univers extended.

I can't tell you how I got here. I recall some of the stops along the way, and I've written about them here, but I'm not sure I could retrace my steps if I had to. Just as important, I can't tell you whether it would be good for you to try to reach the same point. I don't even know what it is. I don't have a name for it, and I don't want to name it, in part because I'm afraid the correct name would be 'full of shit' and then my ego would be damaged.